Best Laid Plans
by Greywolf Lupous
Summary: Their first mistake was pointing a gun at Bobby Mercer. Their last mistake was pointing one at his baby brother.
1. Chapter 1

_Title_: Best Laid Plans

_Summary_: Their first mistake was pointing a gun at Bobby Mercer. Their last mistake was pointing one at his baby brother.

_Disclaimers_: I do not own the Mercer boys or their lovely mother. I do own the DVD, but I don't think that counts though. I might claim the characters in the story, but you know I'm not that greedy. Heck, I don't even claim some of the insults I used.

_Author's Notes_: Actually, I have to give some props to Whilom, whose fic "Lost and Found" partially inspired this story. So thanks Whilom! I also totally ganked "dwarf lord", from LoNni's "Never Easy". In fact, go read those two first, then come back here. It's okay, I'll wait.

…

…you back?

Good. Great reads right? Oh yeah, right, the actual author's note… This story is actually _almost_ done. I had planning on finishing it in the eighth chapter, but Bobby took me aside, and _kindly_ whispered that he wasn't getting enough screen time. So we're looking at probably nine chapters, ten at the absolute most. Right now I don't have a beta, so I'm having to do a very intensive self-edit. If anyone who has a good grasp on the characters and the English language is interested, please message me. All right, I'll let you read now, and bug you again when I post chapter two.

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**Chapter One:**

All Jack Mercer wanted was to get a toothbrush.

He did not want, nor need, a ride from his eldest brother. He also did not want, nor need, forced family bonding time with his current least favorite brother. Well, second, since it was his _other_ brother that was responsible for this late night trip to the store. He also did not want, nor need, a lecture on his "behavior" from someone who couldn't seem to stay in one place for more than a few months.

Jack snorted, which caused the window to fog up against the cold Detroit night.

"What was that, Fairy?"

Jack rolled his eyes heavenward at his brother's pet nickname for him. He tried to remind himself that it was Bobby's second night back in Detroit, and he had to make up for the months of picking he had missed while playing for the league. Jack had endured about a hundred attacks on his sexuality and masculinity since coming home from school that afternoon. It was wearing thin rather fast.

Jack let the silence sit for a few moments, mostly just to irritate his older brother, before responding. "I can walk, you know."

"It's freezing out there," Bobby said by way of explanation. After another moment of awkward silence he added. "I needed to pick up a few things."

Bobby glanced over at Jack, who upon catching the other's gaze, flicked his eyes back out to the icy road. "At eleven o'clock at night?"

"I could ask the same of you."

"Fine," Jack shot back tersely.

"_Fine_."

Jack turned his attention back to the road, frowning as they passed the usual corner store he would run to for his late night excursions and last-minute purchases. The walk was long enough to clear his head if he needed it, but not too long for their mother to worry about him roaming the streets for long.

"You just passed it."

"Yeah, but we're not going to that one," Bobby pointed out.

"_Bobby_," he breathed his brother's name in annoyance. It was bad enough for Bobby to invite himself on Jack's escape from the Mercer household. Now he had to hijack the trip itself and make it longer than necessary.

"Their selection of toothpaste sucks. Besides, you know you have to pay for the 'convenience' of it being so close."

_Bullshit_, Jack thought to himself. He'd known his brother long enough that Bobby was working himself up to one his famous paternal lectures. Although what it could be about was beyond Jack this time. He hadn't immediately hugged the man like he had come home from war, and yeah, he hadn't gone out of his way to talk to him. Then again, Jack was starting to resent the cavalier way he would jump in and out of their lives depending on what whim hit him. Maybe it was starting to show.

Bobby turned a corner, "Look, Jack—"

Jack frowned and peered at what he guessed to be their destination. "The supermarket? What? Did Ma rope you into doing a major shopping trip?"

Bobby sucked in an annoyed breath, trying to calm his temper. His little brother had been avoiding him, and he was hoping that maybe he could cajole a reason out of him if he could trap him in one place long enough.

"Well, sweetheart, I thought maybe you needed pick up some new razors to shave your legs. You know the boys love a girl with smooth legs."

"Fuck you, Bobby."

The car jerked to a stop as Bobby whipped his car into a spot close to the entrance. Jack flew forward, but the seatbelt yanked him back at the last moment. He glared at his older brother, who just returned the look with a grin.

"Here!"

Jack muttered a few choice words as he extricated himself from the old junker. As soon as he was outside, the cold wind bit against his bare skin and his thin hoodie. He suppressed the urge to shiver, lest he invite another comment from Bobby about maybe his clothing choice or lack of proper winter attire, and instead trudged towards the brightly lit supermarket.

He could hear Bobby's heavy footfalls behind him, but didn't slow down his stride. In one of life's fun ironies, Jack had just finished going through a growth spurt, and now was taller than his older brother. It also lengthened his stride, which helped keep the gap between him and Bobby.

"Hey, slow down you long-legged freak," Bobby called out, and Jack glanced back to see him almost jogging to catch up. He couldn't help but smirk as his older brother had to hop a little to catch up, and then keep pace with him. "Man, Ma needs to let you smoke pot or _something_ to stunt your growth. You're getting way too tall."

"Maybe you just toked a little too much in your day, Dwarf Lord."

Bobby snorted and lightly cuffed his little brother on the head. "Respect your elders."

Jack half-heartedly swatted at Bobby, but the older man easily ducked away and right into an older couple leaving with a few bags of groceries. Bobby quickly apologized and turned back to his younger brother.

"Not one word."

"What? I didn't say anything—Twinkle Toes."

"Hey Gigantor, just watch it. Wouldn't want you to hit your head on the door."

Despite his irritation at being shanghaied Jack couldn't help but smirk, and pretended to duck as they passed through the automatic doors. "Well, that was a close one. Good thing you warned me."

"Smart ass."

Jack glanced up as they entered, trying to find the aisle that he needed. He spotted it off near the corner. Glancing back he could see Bobby also mapping out the store, trying to figure out what he needed. He took off for the personal hygiene aisle, noting that he still had his own shadow.

"So…" Bobby started, his joking tone replaced by a more serious one.

Jack just took intentionally longer steps, forcing his older brother into a faster pace.

"Mature, Jack, real mature," he muttered as he fought to keep pace. "What the hell is your problem?"

"I hate the grocery store."

"_Jack_—"

"Hey, you invited yourself along," Jack spat back as they reached the toothbrush aisle. "Did you ever think maybe I just wanted to go get some air?"

"You're sixteen years old! Getting some air at eleven o'clock at night means stepping in the back yard, not wandering the streets."

"Ever hear the one about the pot and the kettle?" He stopped in front of the toothbrush display, dramatically jamming his hands into his pockets. "Besides, it's not _that_ late."

"I grew up in this neighborhood too, and it's certainly late enough for a scrawny white kid!"

"You know, if Ma agreed with you, then _maybe_ I wouldn't go. If she's not worried, then why should I be?"

"You're such an idiot," Bobby muttered to himself angrily and turned around to find his precious toothpaste.

"Well you'd be the expert on that, wouldn't you?" Jack shot back, tone equally as low as he eyed the row of toothbrushes in front of him.

"_What_ was that?"

"Why the hell are you trying to start something, huh, Bobby?"

"I'm not starting anything—"

"Then why won't you just let it _be_ for once? Why do you always have to come home and immediately jump on us about everything?"

"Us?"

"Yes, us. Every single time you come home you've always got something to say to me, Angel, hell, even _Jerry_! I'm surprised you didn't pop on over to his house to give him some well-meaning advice on how to keep his marriage and sex life healthy. Obviously without you here, we're all going to hell in a hand basket!"

"Hey, that's not fair—"

"Yeah? Well neither is you coming and going like Ma is running a damn hotel!"

Usually for Bobby to get information out of Jack, it was like pulling teeth. He either had really pushed his buttons just now, or this had been brewing for a while. Bobby had a feeling it was the second. "Is that what this is about?"

"This?"

"The cold shoulder, the fact that you'd prefer to walk to the corner store in thirty degree weather rather than endure a small car ride with me to the grocery store."

"I already told you: I hate the grocery store."

"Because it's been such a bitch lately," Bobby rolled his eyes. "Come on, Jack. I'm only home for a little while, and I'd rather not spend the entire time fighting with you about stupid shit."

"You're only home because you're on suspension," Jack muttered.

"I'm only home _early_ because I'm on suspension," Bobby corrected. "I always come home for Thanksgiving and Christmas."

Jack twirled his finger in the air in a "whoop-tee-do" motion, before crossing his arms again and staring at the obscenely huge selection of toothbrushes. "Just let me pick out my toothbrush, okay?"

"Toothbrush?"

Jack groaned audibly, knowing there was a reason he hadn't mentioned his reason for going to the store up to this point. It was enough of a break in the tension for Bobby to creep up next to his shoulder and peer at the toothbrush selection with him. Partly to see Jack's reaction and partly to hear the voice that had suddenly dropped to indistinct levels.

"Why do you need a new toothbrush, Jackie?"

"Just drop it," he muttered miserably.

"C'mon, this sounds interesting."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"What? Did you lose yours in the sock drawer?"

"Angel…" he carefully eyed the display, not daring to look at his older brother. "…stole it."

"Angel stole your toothbrush?" Bobby asked, unbelievingly.

"Borrowed without permission," Jack ran a thumb over his brow, voice climbing a few decibels into the audible range.

"Why would he steal your toothbrush?" Bobby asked bewildered.

"Sofi got a new dog," Jack winced, as if it was painful for him to say it. "Apparently she needed something to brush its teeth."

"La Vida Loca," Bobby shook his head gravely. Angel's common sense seemed to disappear around that woman, and stealing Jack's toothbrush for a dog… that was pretty stupid as far as Bobby was concerned. Jack's sense of property was one of the hardest things for the Mercers to teach him, and for Angel to just—

"He tried to give it back," the younger of the two brothers shuddered. "But you know, I think I might be to the point where I can just buy another toothbrush."

"Aw, well I'm proud of you."

"Shut up, Bobby." Jack muttered darkly.

"Would it make you feel better if I promised to kick his ass?"

"I can kick his ass myself," Jack protested feebly.

"Sure you can, sweetheart."

"Why don't you just go grab your damn toothpaste and let me decide?"

Bobby waved the tube of toothpaste he had already picked up. "Already done."

"Then just stop standing over my shoulder and let me decide."

"Well I can see this is a big decision for you," Bobby pat Jack on the shoulder. "I'll leave you and the toothbrush aisle alone and go pick up the other things on my list."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Meet you up front in ten minutes. If you can decide by then."

"Go buy your groceries, old man."

"Gigantor, Slayer of Doors, master of the wit."

Jack's lips twitched into the semblance of a smile. "Whatever, Dwarf Lord."

Bobby chuckled lightly as he left Jack to his tooth brush decision making. One of the reasons he liked the corner store was that there wasn't this much selection. It certainly made it easier to pick one out. Growing frustrated with his inability to make such a simple decision he closed his eyes and picked one at random. He cracked an eye open and spied his choice. Quickly he yanked his hand away from the sparkly pink toothbrush as if it had bit him.

What kind of nickname would Bobby come up with if he saw that one? Princess Sparkles? Dental Hygiene Barbie? The _Tooth_ Fairy? Then again, the look of abject horror that Bobby would get if he picked something so hideously girly might be worth it.

…who was he kidding? Nothing was worth that. He quickly picked the plain blue one next to it. There. Decision made.

Triumphant, he ambled towards the front of the store. He considered grabbing something at the register and making Bobby pay for it. That seemed like decent revenge for this side trip. Maybe he would think twice before hijacking his little brother next time.

Jack paused at the end of the aisle to glance at his watch. Damn, if Bobby was true to his word, then he still had eight minutes. Oh well, maybe he would peruse the supermarket rags, see who Brittney's latest boy-toy was. That and it was fun to do something "feminine" if only for the brief look of disgust that crossed his older brother's face as if Jack had broken some unspoken man-code, _again_, and it reflected poorly on his influence as an older brother.

He rounded the corner, glancing up to see two other patrons checking out. They seemed to have similar attitudes as him in regards to the weather outside, and only wore hoodies and jeans, the hoodies currently pulled over their heads. Jack frowned, a warning bell going off in his head.

He took a quiet step back just as the man closer to the cashier reached behind him, as if he was reaching for his wallet. Instead of a billfold the man pulled out a nine millimeter. Jack felt his feet turn to lead, and the toothbrush slip from his hand.

Oh, shit. This was _not_ good.


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Notes (Part Deux): _Well dear readers, here is the second chapter. I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed (in addition to the review replies, since FFnet is a review nazi and won't let anyone do it individually in-story anymore). Although I wasn't able to reply to my French reviewer, but I wanted to say "Mon français est comme ci comme ça, mais est ici la deuxième partie pour vous." Hopefully I didn't mangle that too bad. It's been a while since I had to compose anything in French. But all of your reviews warmed my cold little Jack-whumping heart. This chapter was brought to you by great conviction and battling flaky network connections here in vacation-land. I hope you enjoy.

Oh, and I realized that I never stated in either the summary or chapter one author's notes, this story is non-slash, and all OC's plan to keep everything in their pants (and not be spontaneously adopted by Evelyn). Hopefully that doesn't disappoint anyone, that's just the way I roll. Oh, and might I mention my ever-present hate for the way FFnet strips out my scene breaks? Yes, may an angry Mercer show up on your door.

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**Chapter Two:**

All Jack wanted was to get a toothbrush.

He didn't want to watch a robbery unfold before his eyes. He also did not want guns, bullets, or any gun-related activities going on anywhere near him. Most of all, he didn't want to attract attention to himself right now.

Jack's throat went dry as the toothbrush clattered to the floor. The sound of the plastic casing hitting the tile was almost deafening to his ears. If this were a movie, such an insignificant action would alert the robbers to his presence. Either this was reality, or perhaps someone above was looking out for him, and they didn't seem to hear it. Swallowing past the lump in his throat he quietly took a step back, slowly, so as to not draw attention to himself. He continued to retreat backwards cautiously as the voices at the register rose in volume.

"Just give me everything in the register!"

The second man, the lookout for the moment, looked around. Jack quickly ducked back into the toothbrush aisle. His heart hammered wildly in his chest, and he was sure that they would be able to hear it over the distance between them. Eyes wide, chest heaving in deep, ragged breaths, he waited to be discovered. After what seemed like forever, but in reality were only a few moments, the voice of the first man spoke up again.

"That's it?! That's all you have?!"

He couldn't make out what the cashier's stuttered reply was, the only thing clear was a fear that Jack could identify with all too well at the moment. The other man rumbled something, also too indistinct over the distance and Jack's pounding heart. He tried to will it to be still, or the very least, be quieter. Once these guys got what they wanted they would be out the front door, and Jack's world would be fine again.

Over the frantic pounding he was able to make out a few words: "night manager", "cameras" and "vault".

His eyes widened. They were going for the vault? He needed to find better cover. Briefly he wished Bobby had taken him to a department store that was being robbed. At the very least he could hide in the racks of clothes like he did when he was a little kid. Speaking of invincible older brothers, where was his?

If he had stayed with Bobby instead of acting like an angry angst-ridden teenager perhaps he wouldn't feel so alone. Or if they had gone to the convenience store, instead of a huge grocery store, he would at least be able to find him easier. Or, if they had gone to the corner store, Jack wouldn't be hiding from robbers right now.

Yes, this was all Bobby's fault. Strange how everything going on tonight traced back to that.

Jack retreated down the aisle, trying to be as quiet as possible. Maybe he could hide in the foreign food aisle. They would never check there right? No wait, what if they decided they needed a scone before they shot up the place? Better to head to the health food section. No armed robber would be caught dead in the health food aisle.

Jack ducked out of the aisle just as the second hooded man turned away from his partner, barking off one last order.

_**oOoOoOo**_

The cash in the till was disappointing to say the least. With Thanksgiving only two days off there should have been plenty of transactions, at least, according to his source. Then again, Isaac had only _hoped_ there would have been enough up front for them to make an easy getaway. He did not like complications, even if it meant leaving behind a bigger score. However the measly amount of cash in the tills of the two open registers was not enough to justify leaving. Had there been more people in the store, they might have cut their losses and ran. As it was, they had a chance to make a far bigger score, as long as they could keep the police out of it as long as possible.

There were only two cashiers on duty tonight, one of which they had encountered outside, trying to sneak in a quick smoke break. They forced the cashier they had confronted to man his register, at least until they could be assured that the manager wouldn't notice anything amiss until it was too late. The remaining cashier, the assistant manager, one customer that had blithely walked up to the register, and another who had been found trembling in an aisle were huddled together. They had put them in a corner that was not covered by the surveillance cameras, another helpful tip from their source.

He glanced around again. He thought he had seen something out of the corner of his eye when they first pulled their guns, but he hadn't seen anything. No one else was in sight, as the store was practically deserted, a combination of the neighborhood and the late hour. Something was amiss though. He swept the area again, spying something on the floor. Curious, he bent down, finding a discarded toothbrush, still in its packaging.

Isaac's head snapped up, eyes roving the store, looking for someone. The aisles were empty. He grabbed the offending item and stalked down the aisle. If someone _had_ seen them, they could have a cell phone and be on the phone with the police right now. He strode down the aisle like a man possessed, emerging on the long aisle that bisected the store into its front and back halves.

He eyed the empty hallway suspiciously. Perhaps he was just being paranoid. Some stupid kid could have just thrown the toothbrush to the floor in a temper tantrum, and their careless parent simply refused to pick it up. It was a skeleton crew working that night anyway. Isaac told himself to calm down and focus. He was in charge of handling the night manager. Any stragglers would be handled accordingly.

_**oOoOoOo  
**_

Bobby tossed the tube of toothpaste between his hands as he stood in the aisle, trying to make a decision. He was glad he'd left Jack to his indecision instead of harping him about it too much, because he would never be able to make up his mind with the kid ragging him over his shoulder. Now, he narrowed his gaze to the two choices he had left. He needed to decide. If he made the wrong decision, he knew it meant his head.

Pre-baked or mix?

He stared between the two choices of pie crust, feeling a bead of sweat trace its way down his forehead. Ma had told him she wanted to make a homemade pie, and since he was insisting on tagging along with Jack, could he pick up a few things while he was out? The problem was, the term "home-made" varied from year to year. It's like his mother could not make up her mind whether she preferred the convenience of a pre-baked pie crust, or the taste and hassle of mixing and rolling the dough herself.

Oh no, she wouldn't physically harm him. But she would fix him with that stare, the one that said: "You're always leaving. You rarely call. The least you could do, just for one day, is to just pick up what I asked for. After all, this meal is for you."

There were variations on it of course, depending on the time of year, and what he had forgotten that time. He knew she mentioned her preference… he just sort of hadn't been paying close attention. He had been too busy keeping an eye on Jack, not trusting him to wait. All Bobby wanted was to shanghai—er, talk to the kid. He knew his family, and more specifically, Jack, did not like his drifting ways. He knew he missed out on a lot by not being there. Like Angel's graduation from basic training, the night Jerry announced his engagement to Camille, and Jack turning into the Jolly Teen Giant. How the hell did the kid manage to grow so much?

With a sigh, Bobby chose pre-baked. He would fight the Thanksgiving crowds tomorrow if he was wrong. Now, he shifted the contents of his hand so he could find the list he'd jotted down. Next was—

—pie filling.

He eyed the ten different fillings lining the shelf.

God damn it!

_**oOoOoOo  
**_

Jack swallowed hard as one of the robbers walked past where he had hidden behind the pyramid of stacked cans of cranberry sauce. He counted to ten, forcing himself to breathe. He watched as the man made a direct line towards the back corner. Obviously he knew where _he_ was going.

Jack intended his direction to be far from the man with the gun. Climbing to shaky feet, he continued to hustle towards an area he hoped would be safe from scrutiny. He kept a sharp eye out, hoping to spot his brother on the way. If he could find Bobby, he knew he would be all right. His brother _always_ knew what to do when shit hit the fan.

He scurried from one aisle to the next, peering around the corner, and then darting over, only to start again. He was almost to the other end of the store when he found someone. Unfortunately it was not Bobby. He forced himself to swallow as he peeked around the corner to get a better look at the other patron.

Tall, male, African-American… dressed in slacks and a leather jacket. While Jack hadn't been able to see the men at the register clearly, he knew this guy wasn't one of them. There was no way they could've changed that fast. The man had a cell phone cradled between his shoulder and his ear as he turned a can of soup over in one hand. A hand basket filled with various grocery items sat at his feet. The words were indistinct, as the store's music drowned out most of the conversation. Jack decided to duck out of the aisle, but the man looked at him, shrugged, and continued talking.

Jack pursed his lips. He had two options now. He could pretend to walk on by, not warn the other man of what was going on and find his brother, or at the very least _hide_ until this was all over. It wasn't a very neighborly thing to do, but damn it was tempting, despite his mother's lecturing voice in his head on doing the right thing. However, if the man _did _run into robbers, then he might mention seeing Jack. Then he'd _really_ be in trouble.

Jack breathed out the breath he'd been holding, and started towards the other man. He understood the criminal mentality behind leaving witnesses. It would be better to keep this guy with him, purely for selfish reasons. Besides, Jack's eyes landed on the phone, there might be another way out of this mess.

The man's attention drifted from the phone conversation and soup can to the nervous teenager approaching him. When it was clear that Jack was intent on him, and not the selection of Rice-a-Roni behind him, he flicked the kid an annoyed glance. "What do you want?"

"I need to borrow your phone," Jack stuttered nervously.

"What?" He eyed the teen, before turning his attention back to the phone. "Yeah, I'll call you back in a few minutes. Some scrawny white kid wants to make a call. Yeah? Of _course_ I will. Now chill man, I've got it covered."

He let the phone drop into his free hand and pressed the end button. Finally he turned back to Jack. "You want to do _what_ now?"

"I need to borrow your phone," Jack said quickly, glancing behind him nervously before turning back to the stranger in front of him. "The store is being robbed. We need to call the police."

As a Mercer, a statement such as his last one was painful, but unfortunately in this case it was true. If these guys weren't going to leave anytime soon, then he had almost little chance of waiting them out. The man in front of him, however, didn't seem too concerned.

"Robbed? You kidding me? I'm not lending you my phone so you can make some booty call!"

Jack shushed the man, and dropped his voice a notch. "I'm _serious_. I saw them pull a gun on one of the cashiers up front. I heard them say something about the night manager and a vault."

The other man's brow knit in concern, hand reaching behind to rest on his back. "You heard all that?"

"Yeah," Jack let out a shaky breath. "So come on, let's call the cops so we can all get out of here."

The man seemed to consider it for a moment before shaking his head. "No, I don't think so."

"_What_?" Jack almost shouted before he caught himself. "Why not? Do you think I'm lying?"

"Oh, no, that's not it."

Jack's breath caught in his throat as the man pulled out a gun that had been hidden in waistband of his pants, bringing it to bear on the teen.

"I know you're telling the truth."

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_Bum bum baaaaa_! What will happen? Will Jack escape? Will Bobby ever find the correct flavor of pie? Stay tuned! Same bat time, same bat channel! 


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Notes:_ Hello again kiddies! It's time for another round of Auntie Grey's story time! I tried to respond to everyone's review, but I was having internet issues again last night. If you didn't get a response from me, know that I tried, and I appreciated every one of your comments!

Last time we left our intrepid heroes, Jack's never-ending quest for a toothbrush was sidetracked by rude men with cell phones, Bobby was in Thanksgiving shopping hell, and no one had made it through the checkout line ("express lane" my ass!)

Now, dear readers, I let you return to your regularly scheduled reading.

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**  
Chapter Three:**

All he had wanted was to get a damn toothbrush.

What Jack didn't ask for was to wind up trapped in a grocery store playing hide and seek with armed felons. He didn't ask for anyone to try and hold this place up. And he most _certainly_ didn't ask for the barrel of a gun to be buried between his shoulder blades.

He tried to keep his breathing under control, but it was hard. He had been in plenty of bad situations in his life, many of which he preferred not to remember. A few after he became a Mercer, but most of them before. None of them had involved gunplay, at least, not aimed in his general direction. He probably had his older brothers to thank for that. They weren't the most upstanding citizens, but they had shielded him from a lot since he had joined the Mercer family.

He felt the barrel dig further into his back and he sucked in a shuddering breath. He really wanted his big brothers right now.

The man behind him, now obviously someone who was supposed to scout the aisles for unwary customers/witnesses, set a fast pace, and soon he found himself approaching the front of the store. Huddled in a corner near the in-store bank, conveniently placed _just_ behind a security camera, were four other people he hadn't noticed before. They wore identical green and maroon uniforms proudly proclaiming them as store employees; the younger of the two resembled brother Jerry a little. He watched Jack with a dazed expression, and held the back of his head with one hand. The other was a gangly man in his twenties wearing a nametag that identified him as "Kevin", and assistant manager. Kevin justifiably looked very nervous. The expression wasn't fear, at least not yet. Perhaps he was in a state of shock, and the true reality of their situation hadn't set in yet.

Rounding out the group were what appeared to be two _real_ customers. One was a man edging into his forties, looking as if he had taken a wrong turn around 8 Mile Road. His pressed khakis, button-up shirt, and fancy leather jacket spoke of more money than someone who should be shopping in their area. The other customer was a young black woman, dressed for the weather in a thick coat long boots. She watched Jack and his escort with trepidation, as if their arrival heralded something ominous.

"On your knees cracker!" The man behind him growled and punctuated the statement with a fierce jab into Jack's back with the barrel of the gun.

Jack dropped to his knees, careful to keep his hands where they could be seen. If there was anything he had learned from his hard formative years, it was how to lay low around people on the edge. Occasionally it worked, but he knew that sometimes people just wanted to beat the shit out of someone. It was best to make slow moves and not draw any attention to himself.

"Is that the only one left?" The one standing guard asked Jack's new friend.

"Hell if I know. I just got the call that you fuckers changed the plan."

"Apparently they emptied the tills earlier than our little birdie told us."

The well-dressed man gave his hostages a dark look. "I don't like it."

"You don't like a lot Ter—"

"Man, shut _up_! No names!"

"Then we should have gone with nicknames."

"No one's calling you Condor," Ter-whatever shot back, and thankfully the hostages were spared any more life threatening details by the ringing of a phone. Ter snapped it up to his ear. "What?"

Jack continued to sit in his uncomfortable position, trying to will reality away. Unfortunately it was sticking around.

"Yeah, I got him," Ter speared Jack with an angry stare. "He saw you fuckers' dramatic little show up front."

There was a long pause as Ter paused to listen to the man on the other end. Jack watched his captor's face intently for some clue of what might be being said, but it was set in stone.

"No, I was just telling _Condor_ here," Ter illustrated his feelings on the nickname with a sneer, "the kid came up before I had a chance to scope the rest of the place out."

Another pause. "No, the only other ones I saw were some geezers, but they left before you guys made your move. Looks like you got the other two."

Jack closed his eyes, filled his lungs with a deep breath and slowly released it. He continued to do this, and found his mind drifting away. What he didn't know about their plans could only help him. He tried not to think about the fact they didn't know he wasn't paying attention, or the fact that they had all seen Ter's face.

"Problems?" Ter's suddenly tense voice cut through the wall of calm and silence that Jack had built around himself. "What kind of problems?"

There was a long moment of silence. So long that Jack was almost tempted to open his eyes. Almost. With them shut he could pretend somewhat pretend that he was kneeling on his own volition, and that the tip of a gun wasn't anywhere near his face.

"Crap," Ter breathed, "for real?"

"What?" Condor asked.

"Time delay lock on the damn vault!"

"Shit!"

Jack's stomach lurched.

"We've got forty-five minutes."

Forty-five minutes… to Jack it sounded like eternity. Entirely too much could happen in forty five minutes. He forced himself to open his eyes, to see both robbers glaring angrily at him and the other hostages.

_Too much_ could happen in forty-five minutes.

"Get their wallets."

_**  
oOoOoOo**_

Bobby struggled to balance the three different cans of pie filling with the rest of his bounty, which now included a pack of mini-marshmallows in addition to the toothpaste and pie crusts. Two could play at this game Evelyn Mercer. True, she _probably_ had told him what she had been planning to make. However his hastily scratched out 'pI fllg" could have easily been a prescription or equation for world peace for all the sense it made. He tried to peer at the next item on the list clutched between his fingers.

It actually wasn't word, rather a crude illustration of… no wait, was that a "C"? He tilted his head to try and get a better vantage point, since his hands were too full to twist the piece of paper. After a few more moments of scrutiny, he decided he had wanted to write out the word "cranberry", and had just been too lazy to finish, or he had drawn a crescent roll.

Maybe his efforts at securing the ingredients for Thanksgiving pie would be enough for his mother. She wouldn't hold it against him that he forgot the cranberries, or the crescent rolls… or was the "C" referring to the flavor of pie filling he was supposed to get? Shit, he didn't grab cherry!

No, no, he was not going to get worked up about cherry pie filling. He was Bobby Fucking Mercer, the Michigan Mauler. He would go home with what he had gathered, and Evelyn could just fix him with that wide-eyed, almost-hurt look…

What the hell, he'd grab them all to be safe.

What he really needed was to find a way to disguise that he'd been roped into Thanksgiving dinner shopping from Jack. He would never hear the end of it. He knew that because he was the ring leader in the grand Mercer tradition of relentless teasing, and Jack idolized him, at least to the point of following in his merciless taunting footsteps.

Maybe he could bribe the kid into silence and possibly sharing the pack mule duties if Bobby threw a case of beer into the mix. It's not like he had school in the morning, and what Ma didn't know…

It had taken him longer than his initial ten minute estimate. He figured Jack would have finished with whatever angsty teenage decision making that went into deciding what toothbrush he wanted and come seeking him out. Not that he thought that Jack desired his company, but he probably was bored out of his skull waiting on Bobby. Maybe he got distracted with the supermarket rags, the little fairy.

He snorted to himself, and tried to shift the contents in his arms to grab the cherry pie filling. Unfortunately it upset the delicate balance that was holding everything together, and the marshmallows dropped to the floor. He made a grab for them with his foot, but it only served in knocking them further away. Muttering to himself he dropped to his knees next to them.

Movement from just beyond the aisle caught his attention. The fleeting feeling of something amiss passed over him. He peered out beyond the edge of the aisle, watching as a middle-aged man wearing a variation on the grocery store uniform was forced out from the back of the frozen section by a black man not much younger than Bobby.

The older man's stiff, panicky movements told Bobby what was going on before he even saw the gun in the black man's hands.

_Shit_.

Bobby ducked his head back into the aisle. He quietly set down the rest of his groceries, although he was sure the music playing over the loud speakers would have muffled the sound. Without another thought he quickly started back in the direction he had left Jack. Thanksgiving preparations and guilt-inducing looks were completely forgotten: right now Bobby's only concern was finding his little brother.

_**  
oOoOoOo  
**_

Isaac shoved the night manager back into the store and towards the front. He was _not_ amused with the recent turn of events. Every minute they spent here was another minute something could go wrong and they would all be caught. This was supposed to have been an easy job with no complications. That's why they had brought the little punk in on the score. He was supposed to have _handled_ all of these loose ends. It just went on to prove that you couldn't trust anyone these days.

The pudgy man in front of him stumbled as they turned down an aisle, before he caught himself on the shelving. The man shuddered violently as he gulped in breaths. Isaac rolled his eyes at the clumsy bastard.

"I-I'm sorry… please don't shoot me," he whimpered.

Honestly, he wasn't worth the price of ammunition, but Isaac didn't feel like reassuring him. It was better that he thought he was on a short fuse, it made everyone that much more eager to do exactly what he wanted.

"You think you can try to get away?" He growled, holding back a smirk as the older man shrank into the shelving.

"I tripped," the manager half-cried.

"On what? The floor?" Isaac muttered and looked down. To his surprise though there was a small pile of groceries, recklessly dumped on the floor. There was no basket in sight, and the items appeared to be from different areas in the store. Toothpaste, marshmallows, about four different kinds of pie filling to go along with just one pie crust.

He roughly grabbed the manager and propelled him towards front of the store. "Get your ass in gear! Don't try nothing else!"

In his mind, Isaac committed each of the items to memory. It looked like there might be another complication to this already stellar night.

_**  
oOoOoOo  
**_

Condor, more commonly known as Caleb when he wasn't holding up grocery stores, rifled through the wallet of the kid Terrell had found. The amount of cash was pitiful, only a five dollar bill and a few ones. He pocketed the cash anyway, and continued to thumb through. No credit cards, which made sense because he didn't look like he was even old enough to drive a car. Caleb reached into one of the pockets, and pulled out an obviously fake Michigan state driver's license proclaiming one "Keith Richards" to be twenty-one.

He snorted and held it up so the kid could see. "Does this even work?"

The kid started a little, as if he hadn't been expecting the question. He hesitated, as if unsure whether or not answering was the correct approach. Finally he answered with a shrug. "Sometimes."

Terrell just shot him a dirty look. "Stop screwing around, Caleb. It say who he is, for real?"

Caleb flipped through, finally coming across a school ID. He pulled it out and peered at it closely. "Jack Mercer. Sophomore in high school it looks like."

_Mercer_, Caleb frowned as he stared at the ID. Why the hell did that sound familiar? He shook his head. Didn't matter. He tossed the wallet with the rest and proceeded to rummage through the woman's purse.

Jack let out the breath he'd been holding when Caleb moved along to the next person's things. They had moved the remaining cashier with the rest of the hostages, and gone through his and the other employee's wallets first. The pile of personal belongings had piled with a cell phone and PDA from the business man, Kyle, according to his driver's license. They had also read the address off of each license, as if to say, "we _know_ where you live". Jack knew this type; there were quite a few of them around his neighborhood. They made a lot of threats, but they were willing to carry through with them if forced to.

"Brenda Gibbons is it?" Caleb called to the girl sitting next to him.

Jack saw her shrink down a little as Caleb eyed her appreciatively. His stomach lurched, recognizing the predatory look in Caleb's eyes. The fear he saw in her was intimately familiar to Jack, so much so that it started to stir memories long buried.

He dropped his eyes to the floor, trying to focus his mind on other things. Maybe they would just take the money once they opened the vault and leave. That is if the police didn't come around, or a security guard.

Jack licked his lips nervously, noting that there was no security guard in their little group. Every late-night or twenty-four hour grocery store had one. What did that mean? Had these guys just snuck past while the guard was behind the building? Or, worse, had they 'taken care' of him?

If they had already killed the guard, there was nothing stopping them from killing the rest of them. Especially since they had all seen their faces. Jack swallowed and slowly leaned back so he and Kevin, the assistant manager, were shoulder to shoulder.

"Hey," he muttered softly.

Caleb was loudly reciting Brenda's address at the moment, so Jack hoped he could keep their conversation quiet enough.

Kevin darted a glance in his direction, but then fixed his eyes ahead again.

"Where's the guard?" He tried again.

Kevin's mouth opened for a moment, but quickly snapped shut. He stared ahead resolutely. Jack was about to try again when someone grabbed a handful of his air and jerked his head back. Terrell sneered down at him and gave his hair a painful yank.

"You got something to say, Jackie Boy?"

Jack tried to shake his head, but Terrell just pulled tighter.

"I can't hear you!"

"N-nothing," he stuttered.

Terrell let go of his hair, but gave him a swift slap to the back of his head. Unlike Bobby's swat earlier, this had no undercurrent of playfulness or fondness. It was sharp and painful: his first warning.

"Are you done?" Terrell impatiently asked his partner.

Caleb tossed the purse into the small pile of belongings. "Yeah, that's the last one."

"Good," Terrell muttered and turned his focus back on the hostages. "The man should be back soon."

Isaac appeared right on cue, roughly shoving the night manager into the small crowd of hostages. His two partners watched him with trepidation.

"What's wrong, man?"

"We may have _more_ trouble," Isaac growled and turned to the group of people huddled together. "I want to know what each of you came here for."

Terrell frowned. "What? Why does that matter?"

Isaac ignored him and turned to Kyle, the businessman. "What'd you get?"

"My wife asked me to pick up some things for Thanksgiving," he stuttered.

"Things for _what_?"

"Sweet potato casserole," Kyle squeaked.

"Does she make it with marshmallows?"

Jack blinked and exchanged a confused look with his fellow hostages. The other two gunmen eyed Isaac uneasily.

"What the hell does it matter?" Terrell asked.

"_Does she_?" Isaac brandished his gun at the trembling man, tone growing more forceful.

"No! I'm allergic to marshmallows!" Kyle cried desperately.

"Who the hell is allergic to marshmallows?" Isaac demanded hotly.

"What's up with you?" Terrell tried again.

Isaac shot him a pointed look before turning his gun on the lone woman hostage. "What'd you come here for, bitch?"

"I-I," she stuttered.

"Spit it out!"

Brenda shut her eyes as a few tears leaked down her chin. "I needed tampons."

It was the one word that could bring any man to silence, including armed ones. Caleb cleared his throat and looked away. Jack watched the man's discomfort with a small sense of satisfaction. Good. Sick bastard.

His relief was short-lived, as Isaac snapped his gun in Jack's direction. "What about you, cracker?"

* * *

-

Uh oh, looks like things keep getting better for Jack, at least Bobby's away from the pie now. Hopefully I've counted up the hostages right, and we don't have any randomly disappearing in future chapters. The joys of self-edits. Next time kiddies: Isaac exchanges green bean casserole recipes, Condor--I mean Caleb tries to get his mack on, and Terrell has a heart of gold!

...or not.

Either way, stay tuned!


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Notes_: A little shorter of a chapter today, just sort of the ebb and flow of the story. I apologize for the delay, but I got lost in the baking aisle on the way here. It was a truly gruesome and frightening experience. I tried finding my way out, but I had a run-in with the flour display. Scooby Doo-like hijinks ensued.

I had a nice long paragraph detailing said hijinks with each of my faithful reviewers starring, but then I realized you guys might just want to read the next chapter. So I sighed heavily, backspaced, and loudly proclaimed in Times New Roman bolded 12-font:

-

* * *

-

**Chapter Four:**

"I just wanted a toothbrush," Jack quickly stated, hoping that the gun-toting robber would continue his strange line of questioning with someone else.

"A toothbrush?" Isaac repeated, eyeing Jack with sudden interest. "Did you need any toothpaste?"

Toothpaste?

"Should we just ask them for their grocery lists?" Terrell asked sarcastically.

"You stay out of this!" Isaac pinned his partner with a hard stare.

Jack watched the byplay with half-interest. What did toothpaste have to do with any—oh shit! _Bobby_.

"Well?" Isaac asked, watching him closely. Maybe too closely.

Jack swallowed but met the other man's stare. "Yeah, I needed some toothpaste."

"And the marshmallows?"

Jack was a terrible liar, this he knew. His face gave everything away. It was how Bobby could always spot him lying, didn't matter about what, but he could tell. Right now he had an idea his expression was giving away his surprise. His mind worked quickly, processing everything he heard Isaac asking about, his comments, and spat out the first thing that came to mind. "My mom needed them."

Isaac raised an eyebrow. "Your mom?"

"For her sweet potato casserole. That and she puts them in hot chocolate," he began to speed through everything he ever knew about marshmallows and his house. "We drink a lot of hot chocolate, usually when I can't sleep. Sometimes I put them in my cereal when she buys the healthy crap. We go through a _lot_ of marshmallows—"

"What flavor of pie?"

_Pie_? Jack thought incredulously. _What the hell? Did Mom send him here to buy the whole damn Thanksgiving dinner_?

"Cherry," Jack stated simply. It was Angel's favorite and Evelyn made it each year.

He didn't even see the gun move. One minute Jack was sitting up, the next he was flat on his back, a large bruise already starting to form on his cheek where he had been struck with the butt of the pistol. Dimly he could hear Brenda trying to choke back her sobs, and the other two robbers raising their voices. The fire in his jaw drowned most of it out.

"Made up your mind awful fast, didn't you?" Isaac sneered, before looking up at the other two. "We _definitely_ have a problem."

"What the _fuck_?" Terrell whirled on their leader.

"The little shit is lying," Isaac watched impassively as the teen lay on the floor, clutching his jaw. "I found his toothbrush at the front of the store. There was a pile of crap at the back that Grace there," he indicated the manager, "tripped over. Three different flavors of pie filling and _none_ of them were cherry."

"That's going to be one nasty tasting pie," Caleb shook his head.

"Cut the jokes, shithead!" Isaac looked out at the long aisles stretching across the store. "We missed one."

"Are you sure?" Terrell asked.

"No, I just get my jollies around kicking little kids," Isaac shot back.

Jack would've protested that he was sixteen, which was far from being little or a kid. He would've, that is, if his jaw hadn't been throbbing in time with the beating of his heart. Or if he didn't think he would get a matching bruise on his other cheek to match.

Terrell's cell phone gave off a loud trill, and he watched as Isaac took his position covering the hostages before stepping away. "Yeah?"

Jack finally pushed himself back to a sitting position, still holding is jaw. It was probably a good thing Bobby wasn't here. He knew for certain that his older brother wouldn't have taken kindly to the punks beating up on his kid brother. His temper probably would have erupted, and then bullets would have started flying. Bobby was tough, but that didn't mean he was bullet proof.

"No shit it's taking a long time," Terrell growled into the phone. "Everything has gone to hell in here is what's wrong! Anything on your end?"

"Tell him to get his ass in here," Isaac threw over his shoulder. "We're gonna need his help."

"We won't have any warning if the cops show up," Caleb protested.

"Well they'll show up for sure if whoever you asses left in the store has a cell phone!"

Jack could've assured them that Bobby didn't have a cell phone, and probably no desire to call the police. He didn't think that would really help much anyway. He felt a shiver run down his spine as Isaac regarded him coldly.

"Does he?"

Jack stared back blankly, partly because his jaw ached too much for him to respond verbally.

"You expect him to answer? You probably broke the kid's jaw," Terrell stowed his phone away. "He's going to do a quick check before he comes in."

"Good," Isaac didn't take his eyes off of Jack.

"Maybe we ought to just go," Caleb muttered, so low it was almost inaudible.

Terrell just glared at Caleb, who dropped his gaze back to the hostages. Jack tried to swallow, wanting to look away from Isaac, but unable to force himself to. The unspoken sentiment of it being too late for cutting out hung in the air.

"Who'd you come with, kid?" Isaac prompted.

Working his jaw was difficult, and the pain almost brought tears to his eyes, but he managed to force out a few words, "No one."

Isaac took a menacing step forward, and Jack unconsciously scooted back at the fire in the other man's eyes. It spoke of many unpleasant things to come if he didn't cooperate.

Isaac finally ended the staring contest and looked over at Terrell and Caleb. Terrell seemed to understand what he was asking for, and fished Jack's wallet out of the pile of personal items belonging to the hostages. He tossed it to his leader without pause. With one hand Isaac caught it, and started to thumb through it. He first came across the fake ID, snorting at the name.

"Keith Richards?" Isaac eyed Jack, taking in the messy poof of hair and the band name emblazoned on his hoodie. "Think you're some kind of rock star?"

Jack remained silent as Isaac came across his school ID. Jack watched him with trepidation. "Jack, huh? A little far for you to walk, isn't it?"

Jack felt it better to not answer that one. Isaac had already tripped him up once on innocuous statements. He really didn't want to give the man a reason to hit him again.

"Well you certainly didn't drive, unless you just so happened to forget your license," Isaac threw the wallet back at Terrell without a second glance. "No bus comes around here at this time of night."

In one swift move he grabbed the front of Jack's hoodie and yanked him forward until their noses were almost touching. "I don't like being lied to."

Jack was saved from having to respond by the front doors swishing open. An imposing figure of a man strolled in, decked out in the dress of a security guard. Everyone turned to watch the newcomer. Jack tensed, wondering if this was the point when everything was going to erupt in gunfire.

"Anything?" Isaac asked, not releasing his hold on Jack.

Jack's heart sank as the man shook his head. "It's all clear. Don't think the cops really care much about this area."

Isaac turned back to face him. "Oh, what's that, Jackie? Were you hoping he was coming here to save your scrawny ass?"

The teen swallowed painfully.

"We planned this out more than you think. Got our boy here to take over security for the night; makes for an easier getaway without having someone shoot at you."

It answered Jack's lingering question about the fate of the guard, but it raised many more. Such as how they could've arranged something like that, as he was sure they all had criminal backgrounds; or how they knew so much about the store in the first place.

Isaac gave him a violent shake. "Now I want you to answer my question, without lying this time."

They knew he was lying, and Jack knew that they knew. Still, telling them about Bobby felt like betraying his brother. They would certainly go search him out, and he didn't see Bobby surrendering without a fight. He just shook his head. Isaac let him go with a rough shove. As he landed, he could feel two hands steady him. He looked up to see the injured cashier giving him a sympathetic smile. He tried to return the smile, but it came out as a grimace as even that small of an action pained his jaw.

"Who do you think it is?" Caleb asked.

"Who?" The fake security guard asked.

"Someone's still in the store," Isaac said tersely. "Boy Wonder here seems to think that refusing to tell us anything might help."

"Think whoever it is will give us trouble?"

Isaac flicked the safety off, plainly in Jack's view. "If he does, he won't give it for long."

Jack's eyes widened. Bobby lived to give people trouble, especially someone waving a gun in his face.

"You and Caleb stay and watch them," Isaac motioned to Terrell with his head. "We shouldn't be long."

Isaac turned back to give him a sinister grin. "You have any last words for your friend?"

Perhaps it was the ghostly memories of his painful childhood being conjured by the situation, or maybe the threats against his brother. Either way, something inside of Jack snapped. He gave off an angry cry as he launched himself at the gunman. Isaac saw it coming and merely sidestepped the enraged teen. Jack almost tumbled, but caught his footing and turned around to try again to face a pistol leveled at him.

Jack breathed heavily as Isaac closed the distance between them. Despite the difference in their ages, due to Jack's recent growth spurt, they stood at eye level to each other.

"Still claiming you came alone?"

The adrenaline still flowing through his system, Jack did the only sensible thing a Mercer in his position would do.

He spat in the other man's face.

Isaac regarded the teen coldly for a moment before wiping his face with his sleeve. Jack just returned the look, as if he was daring the older man to try and pistol whip him again. Each man breathed, nerves taught with tension, waiting for the other to break. Everyone behind them was silent. Finally Isaac closed the space between them, dropping the gun to his side.

He leaned forward so that he could whisper in Jack's ear. "That's strike two."

Jack let out a shaky breath as Isaac grabbed him and walked him back to the other hostages. He was sure that was going to be his last stand. In his head he could hear Jerry lecturing him on doing something so stupid. At the same time, he could Angel congratulating him on a ballsy move. Despite the pain in his jaw, he felt himself smirk a little.

Isaac's brow twitched, seeing the defiance. Grabbing a handful of the kid's hair, he jerked his head back. "Why you smiling, bitch?"

Jack knew better, but he couldn't help but chuckle a little as he tried to imagine Angel's response to the situation. He probably would have said something about banging Isaac's girlfriend. Isaac's eyes flashed red and he shoved the barrel into Jack's temple.

"You think this shit is funny?"

"I was trying to see things from your point of view," Jack explained quietly.

Isaac just stared at him.

He was _so_ dead. "I just can't seem to get my head that far up my ass."

With a growl Isaac clubbed the kid over the head with the butt of his pistol. Jack crumpled to the ground. He would've landed flat on his face if the cashier that had steadied him earlier didn't lunge forward to catch him.

"What a fucking idiot," Isaac shook his head and pointed to Jack's half-conscious form with his gun. "If he does anything else, shoot his ass."

The other three startled at the proclamation. They had never intended to kill anyone coming into this. That would most assuredly have the police hounding their asses harder than a simple hold up would. Terrell was the first to recover and stepped forward.

"What are we waiting for? Let's find this sneaky bastard so we can open that safe up when it's time."

Isaac gave him a nod of approval and they both fanned out, taking separate ends of the store.

Jack watched them leave as his vision swam, in the arms of a man that slightly resembled one of his brothers. For a moment he let himself pretend that it was Jerry holding him and not some nameless stranger, lightly admonishing him for acting like a fool. A wave of nausea swept over him, and he wished with all of his being that he could just wake up from this nightmare.

* * *

-

_Jinkies! How's Scoob—er, Jack going to get out of this one?_

_Bobby did not appear in this chapter due to the fact that I beat him over the head with a rolling pin, since I'm having to rewrite Chapter Nine… AGAIN! He's battered, he's bruised, but I think he's learned his lesson about asking me to write things in detail. Besides, gotta spread the whump around._


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's Notes:_ Yes, you guessed it, it's that time again.

_Mime Time!_

For this chapter, I will be doing an interpretive dance, instead of writing out actual words. And let me tell you, it's going to be exciting. I'm going to start with a series of pirouettes and segue to a tap solo that expresses the anguish, pain, and loneliness our villain Isaac feels at the top. From there it's a rocking number where Jack expresses his inner most thoughts and feelings at being whumped multiple times last chapter, as well as his fears for Chapter Eight. Finally, we'll end with a soft ballad in which Bobby expresses his regret for making me write past nine chapters—wait, wait, stop. Don't leave me. I'm kidding.

Last time we left our heroes, Bobby had finally abandoned his quest for pie and started looking for Jack, who was up at the front of the store, giving some ill-advised back talk to Isaac Hood and his band of not-so-merry-men.

-

* * *

-

**Chapter Five:**

Jack had only come for a toothbrush.

Instead he had an aching jaw, possibly a concussion, and two armed men on the hunt for his eldest brother.

"That was pretty stupid," the man who had broken his fall murmured to the teen.

He lolled his head to face the voice, brow crinkling in confusion. "Jerry?"

The man, who was far closer to Jack's age than his older brother's shook his head. "Abel."

Jack squinted his eyes as the face in front of his swam. "You look like Jerry."

"Who's that?"

"M'brother," Jack slurred.

"Brother?" The man looked at his dark skin skeptically, then at the pale kid in front of him.

"Adopted," Jack muttered as if that explained everything and tried to shove himself up with his arms.

"Stop," Jerry/Abel soothed. "It hurts like hell, but the dizziness will pass if you let it."

"Doctor?" Jack frowned.

"Hardly," Abel snorted. "They caught me with the same maneuver outside."

"Too bad," Jack muttered, "my jaw hurts too."

"It'll pass," Abel lied. His head still hurt like hell, but he felt like he needed to reassure the kid. He had a brother a little younger than Jack, and knew he was projecting his feelings of his little brother on the kid. Jack didn't physically resemble Abel's brother, but they had that same stubborn streak.

Maybe this Jerry person was the person Jack had been trying to protect. Either way, he hoped the kid would back down. He was dangerously close to getting himself shot.

"J'rry," Jack blinked owlishy at him.

"Abel," he corrected softly.

Jack either didn't hear him, or care for the correction at the moment. "They're gonna get their asses whooped."

Abel frowned and watched the gunmen. He certainly didn't see any ass kicking in the future for their captors. He just patted Jack's shoulder. "They sure are."

_**oOoOoOo**_

Bobby had peered down each aisle in the vain hopes of finding Jack either obliviously shuffling through items, or maybe even taking refuge behind a display. If he _was_ hiding, he was doing a damn good job of it. He was moving as fast as he dared, but he knew where there was one gunman, more would surely follow. The last thing he wanted to do was to be caught unaware before he made sure Jack was safe.

Not that he wanted to be caught at all, but right now Jack's safety was paramount. It was Bobby's job to look after the kid. He was the oldest, the man of the house, even if it was a house he didn't live in anymore. As such, it was his duty to look out for his brothers, and fuck up anyone who dared lay a hand on them.

He edged to the end of the aisle, and paused. Over the din of the store's endlessly looping soundtrack of Top 40 songs, he thought he could make out the dull thud of boots hitting tile. He backed off a few inches and waited. He spied a flash of color and quickly struck out with an arm to the chest area. If it was Jack, it would be a relatively harmless move.

Booted feet flailed, and Bobby quickly took in khakis, a pressed business shirt, and dark skin. _Not_ his youngest brother. He retaliated with a swift kick to the ribs. The music above drowned out the pain-filled grunt. Before his victim could recover, Bobby hauled him up in a choke hold. He tightened his elbow on the man's throat.

"Hi," the eldest Mercer greeted coolly, "looking for someone?"

The man gasped, but didn't form any actual words.

"What was that?"

There was another attempt at speech that came out as a strangled moan.

"You see, I'm looking for someone myself. I can't seem to find him, which is strange, seeing as how this store isn't _that_ big."

His captive flailed a little and Bobby increased the pressure on the man's throat. "If you fuckers so much as touch him, I will personally snap all of your necks."

The gunman made another strangled noise. Bobby didn't have time for this. He increased the pressure enough to where he cut off the oxygen flow. The man gasped and started wildly clawing at his arm, trying to get air. Slowly his struggles ceased and he went limp in Bobby's arms.

Bobby unceremoniously dropped the unconscious man. He didn't feel any need to kill anyone, that is, unless they had hurt his brother. If so, he would finish the job with no problem. Quickly Bobby patted the man down, grabbing his wallet and his gun. He flicked the wallet open, shuffling it until he found the man's ID. He left everything else in the billfold and dropped the it on the unconscious man's chest.

The gun was for Bobby's peace of mind, the ID was for insurance. Whether or not the police got involved, he would know where these guys lived. No one messed with Bobby Mercer and got away without at least a few scars.

He gave the body an extra kick for good measure, because it helped take out some of his aggression. Bobby was a man of action, and having to sneak around and be silent went against his very nature. He eyed the man for a moment longer, not wanting to leave him there to wake up, but he had nothing to tie him up with. He would have to risk it.

He stepped over the prone figure and peered out into the aisle, making sure it was clear before he crossed and continued his progress to the front of the store. He had a sick feeling he already knew where Jack was. He quieted his footsteps as he peered around to the front of the store. A few half-sized aisles angled against the front of the building made up the over-the-counter section of the store's pharmacy. It also provided him the perfect cover as he ducked behind them, scanning the exit and the long line of registers. Almost at the far end he could make out two men pacing around a small group of people kneeling on the ground.

It was too far to accurately make out who was who exactly. He cursed under his breath, knowing he was going to have to get closer. Bobby felt the weight of the gun in his hand, feeling the strong desire to open fire on the two men. It would be the fastest option. His aim was good, but at this distance, how could he be sure he wouldn't hit one of the hostages? Or that the gunmen wouldn't open fire on them? He couldn't risk it, not if Jack was with them.

He had no idea how many of them there was, and he couldn't just keep playing grocery store ninja. There was too much open space between the group's position and his though. He would have to come from the other direction if he was going to have any chance of sneaking up on them. With a great amount of reluctance, Bobby turned back the direction he came.

_**oOoOoOo**_

Isaac was beyond frustrated. He was still in this damned store twenty minutes after he had hoped to be on his way home. He still had over thirty minutes until they could open the store's vault, and now he was searching for a wayward customer that had escaped their grasp.

He had almost made it to the other end of the store, and had yet to run into their mystery man or Terrell. It was a little unnerving, as Isaac had been methodical in his search. He rounded another corner, spying a man laid out on his back. Isaac didn't have to get very close to see that it was Terrell.

With a frustrated growl he rushed over to his fallen partner. Isaac quickly looked for a pulse, and after finding one, felt himself relax a little. At least they weren't dealing with Steven Seagal. His hand brushed over the open wallet on the man's chest, recognizing it as Terrell's. He snatched it up and searched through it, only finding the driver's license missing.

He dropped the wallet and whipped out his cell phone, pressing the speed dial for Cain, the fourth member of their gang.

Almost immediately he heard the fake guard pick up. "Yeah?"

"He knocked out Terrell. Tell Caleb to keep a sharp eye out, and find out who this fucker is!"

Cain grunted in agreement before hanging up. Isaac sighed as he eyed the unconscious man in front of him. He was half-tempted to leave him where he was for being stupid enough to get knocked out in the first place. He set his jaw. Whoever was on the loose in this store was not only tough enough to get the drop on Terrell, he was making his own counter strike.

With an annoyed grunt he bent down and started the long process of dragging Terrell to the front of the store.

_**oOoOoOo**_

Cain snapped his phone shut and turned to Caleb.

"Whoever it is got the drop on 'T'," Cain grunted. "The man said for you to keep a sharp eye out."

"And you?" Caleb asked, half-annoyed.

Cain grinned ferally, "I'm going to get our little birdie here to sing."

Abel tightened his grip on Jack as he saw the bulky man eye the teenager like a nut that needed to be cracked. While Jack had finally seemed recognize that Abel wasn't his adopted brother, he was still leaning onto Abel heavily for support. He wouldn't last a second with the hulk of a man.

"Just tell 'em," he whispered harshly in the kid's ear. "They already know someone's out there."

Cain briefly turned his gaze to Abel before he roughly grabbed Jack's other arm and yanked the kid to his feet. Jack swayed for a moment before the beefy hand steadied him. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way."

Jack raised his chin defiantly.

"Fine," Cain growled. "The hard way."

Jack wished the world would stop tilting, it would make it a lot easier to hold out against them. Cain pulled his gun up for Jack to see. The youngest Mercer felt like rolling his eyes. That threat was starting to get old. They hadn't shot him yet, just used it as a club.

"Not scared, huh?" Cain eyed him. "You're a tough little shit, aren't you?"

In his mind's eye, Jack could see Angel smirking at that one. He felt the corner of his mouth quirk up in a smile.

"Guess if I just shot out your knee caps, you'd just laugh at me, huh?"

Well, he'd _probably_ scream bloody murder. He'd like to laugh, though. Jack just remained silent.

"And I wouldn't get much information out of you if I just shot you in the forehead."

The man had a point.

"However, I could start picking off your fellow hostages here," Cain watched the teen, satisfied when he saw the youth's eye twitch a little. "How many would it take? One? Two?"

Jack glanced at the group, seeing a wave of fear ripple through them.

"You're a tough guy, but how much blood can you have on your hands?"

Jack swallowed hard. Cain grinned, revealing his canines. He spun Jack around and grabbed a fistful of the teen's jacket, pulling him close. With the other hand he aimed his gun at the group. "Which one?"

Jack shook his head lightly.

"I know, maybe we ought to off with your friend here," Cain turned his aim to the cashier that had been helping the kid.

Jack watched as the gunman's finger started to tighten on the pistol. His vision swam, and instead of Abel he saw Jerry again. "No!"

Cain finished pulling the trigger, but there was no explosion of sound, just a soft click. Abel gave out a soft whimper and Jack felt his knees go weak.

"Now, I'll do that again, but with the safety off," Cain growled in his captive's ear.

Jack closed his eyes, feeling nausea start to rise in his throat. He was unsure if it was due to his throbbing head, or the sick feeling that he was betraying his oldest brother. He fought past it, managing a quiet whisper. "He's my brother."

"Your brother?" Cain gave him a good shake. "He a cop or something?"

"No, Bobby's not a cop! He's just—"

"Bobby?" Caleb echoed, connecting Jack's last name with the new one. The gunman's face paled. "Your brother is Bobby Mercer?"

Jack nodded feebly.

Caleb cursed loudly, and Cain watched as his gaze darted around more furtively.

"What?" The behemoth of a man asked.

"You don't _fuck_ with Bobby Mercer!" Caleb squeaked.

Cain fixed his partner with a sour look. "And just who is he that he's got your panties in such a wad?"

"They call him the Michigan Mauler, he's a hockey player." Caleb licked his lips nervously.

"What's he going to do? Throw a puck at us?"

Caleb shook his head quickly. "My cousin tangled with him a few years back… he was in traction for months!"

Cain rolled his eyes. "You pussy."

Caleb just continued to mutter to himself.

"Does he have a cell phone?" Cain shook the teen again.

Jack shook his head emphatically, regretting the action as it brought the pounding in his head back tenfold.

Cain grunted as he shoved Jack back with the rest of the hostages. Jack stumbled to his knees, before landing hard. He refused to look the other hostages in the eye as he pulled his knees up to his chest. He closed his eyes as a wave of dizziness and nausea passed over him. He just wanted to go home.

Cain's gaze swept over the store's expanse as if it were a ghost town, and the aisles were derelict buildings, all of them possible of holding a vengeful ghost. He wasn't sure if Caleb was overreacting or not, but this Bobby Mercer had managed to get the drop on Terrell.

He had a feeling that this was going to get ugly before the night was through.

* * *

-

_Yeah, y'know Cain, I've got that strange feeling too. And it's not just because I've read ahead._

_I was going to put another amusing end-note here, but it's late. Sadly I had no time to respond to all my lovely reviewers today before uploading, but I figured you guys would want another chapter more. I've got a three-day event coming up at work, so I will try to keep daily updates going, but just cross your fingers._

_I'll check back in with you crazy cats (hopefully) tomorrow, for our next exciting episode of Bobby Mercer: Grocery Store Ninja..._


	6. Chapter 6

_Author's Note: _Oh man, twelve hour work days aren't fun. I was actually so exhausted I seriously contemplated going to bed without giving you guys the latest chapter, as I haven't had the time to really look it over. Then I felt bad. You were all so very kind in reviewing today, which really brightened my day on those very brief periods where I could take a break. So I might sneak in some tweaks to this chapter at a later date (and possibly some of the earlier ones).

Funny story, I actually went to the grocery store today. I managed to get in and out, and no one pulled out any semi-automatic weapons or decide to use me as a punching bag. It was actually boring. Or so I thought, as I was wandering the aisles, contemplating on why the baking soda could not be found in the baking aisle. I mean, it's a seeming contradiction. So I looked around the entire store, picking up a two-fer slice on red velvet cake to console myself as I tried to solve this mystery. I wandered back to the baking aisle, determined to start from square one. I wasn't about to go back to the store employee who asked me if I needed help and admit that I did. Then I looked up. To find it _staring_ at me. So if anyone is ever trying to find baking soda or corn starch, they ARE on the baking aisle, they're just HIDDEN.

So officially, whatever you curse your characters with, it's bound to wind up haunting you in some form in real life. I expect to be jumped any moment now. Perhaps by the combined casts of Bonanza, Stargate Atlantis, and Four Brothers.

So before they do that, I present to thee, chapter six.

**-**

* * *

-

**Chapter Six:**

Jack didn't even want the damn toothbrush anymore. He just wanted to get the hell away from this place.

He couldn't look Abel in the eye. Jack had almost gotten him killed, and Abel was the only one who seemed to give a damn about him being used as a punching bag. Jack felt a hand gently touch his shoulder and he jerked it away. He didn't want to be comforted right now. He had just told them about Bobby; he didn't deserve sympathy.

Eventually Abel gave up, leaving Jack to his thoughts. They swirled around the same few points: his brother was outnumbered and outgunned; Jack himself was proving rather useless; and mostly, they knew exactly what to say to get Jack to cooperate with them. He wasn't sure which point disturbed him the most.

The pounding in his head and aching in his jaw didn't help much. It made it hard to think, which wasn't a good thing if Isaac was going to start another round of amateur robber psychology. The pharmacy and over-the-counter medicines beckoned him. What he wouldn't do for a handful of Advil right now. Or vicodin, heck, _morphine_ while he was wishing. But Advil would work too.

He stared at the drug aisles longingly, as if he could will a bottle of pain killers to his hand. If not Advil, at least a six pack of beer. Wasn't there some law about cruel and unusual punishment? Well, there were laws against pulling guns on people, so the idea that the gang in front of them were going to give him some Advil for a headache was a little farfetched. Especially considering it was a headache that in their mind he deserved.

A tall figure lumbered from the corner of the store, dragging another behind him.

Jack didn't bother getting excited; he could tell from the hoodie and jeans that it was just Isaac, dragging behind an unconscious Terrell behind him. Jack perked up. So he _had_ heard correctly earlier, and one of the guys had been taken out. He felt the stirrings of hope flutter in his chest. That meant that Bobby was still alive, and was indeed kicking ass.

Jack unsuccessfully hid a grin as Isaac grunted heavily, finally heaving his unconscious burden to the line of cash registers. He leaned back on his arms, finally meeting Abel's gaze. Quietly, so as to not be heard, Jack indicated the unconscious robber. "Told you. Asses kicked."

Abel shook his head softly, but let one side of his mouth quirk into a smile. It was nice to see their captors get a little shit back. He just wondered how long this Bobby person could outfox four armed men.

Isaac breathed heavily as he stormed over to the behemoth of a man. They spoke in low tones, but Abel could tell from their glances in Jack's direction, it wasn't anything good. He could only imagine that Isaac was being updated on everything Cain had managed to get out of Jack.

Despite that he could have a bullet in his skull right now, Abel really couldn't hold it against the kid. He was just trying to protect his brother, something that Abel understood all too well growing up in this area of Detroit. Besides, Jack hadn't let him get shot, and that counted for something, especially considering that both of his supervisors were too busy cowering in fear to do anything.

Abel watched as a maniacal glint entered Isaac's eye and felt his guard go up. That was never good, especially when it was accompanied by a smile as cruel as that. He glanced over at Jack, who was staring back at Isaac defiantly. Abel could tell that it was mostly forced, and the kid's confidence from earlier had been greatly shaken.

The leader of the gang chuckled as if someone had made some private joke before heading over to the closest cash register. He speared Abel with a cold look as he picked up the phone hanging up next to the register. "How do you work this?"

_**oOoOoOo**_

Bobby was up to his arms in frozen pizzas and ice cream when someone finally had enough decency to shut Britney Spears up. A loud hiss of air came over the speakers, and Bobby felt himself pause, dropping behind a waist-high reach-in freezer.

"Hey Mercer," a voice boomed above, thick with a Detroit accent. "Real nice move you pulled with my boy over there in the toilet paper aisle."

"I thought so," Bobby muttered back. "Wiped the floor with his ass."

"Now we could keep this up for the next half hour, and you _might_ get lucky and take a few more of us out before we shoot your sorry ass full of holes."

"Might? Please!"

"Then again, we might have to shoot your little brother here since he's being such a pain in the ass."

That stopped Bobby cold.

"Thought that might get your attention. Now, here's the deal. You come out where we can see you or you're gonna need to stop by the first aid aisle to get a band aid to cover the hole we're going to put in his head."

A soft rustle emanated from the speaker followed by an audible clack of a bullet loading into the chamber of a gun.

"So if we don't see you in ten seconds, we're gonna assume you're just as tired of his ass as we are. Ten."

He wasn't serious.

"Nine."

_Shit_! Bobby grabbed the lip of the freezer and hauled himself to his feet.

_**oOoOoOo**_

Jack swallowed heavily as Isaac gave him a toothy grin. "Eight."

Cain grabbed him by the front of his shirt and hauled him to his feet. "Seven."

He tried to twist away, but got boxed on the ears for his efforts. "Six."

Jack felt himself stumble as he was shoved into a better vantage point for the turkey shoot. He gave a wild glance back at Abel and the other hostages, who were watching the proceedings with mounting horror. The empty aisles behind him remained as they were.

"Five," the countdown grew more forceful, and Jack slowly turned, watching as Isaac's expression grew more thunderous by each second he counted off.

"Four."

Bobby's feet pounded heavily against the tile flooring, as he tried to desperately reach the front of the store to halt the countdown.

"Three."

He felt himself slip on a patch of melted ice that had fallen from one of the freezers. He desperately grabbed for the handle from one of the freezers, he couldn't afford to let himself fall.

"Two."

Bobby managed to keep his footing and used the door to propel himself forward giving him an extra burst of speed. He was almost to the end of the aisle. He could make it. He could make it.

"One!"

The entire store was engulfed in a deafening roar, the sound amplified by the high ceilings and open area. Bobby felt his heart still as his feet dragged themselves to a stop.

_No_…

_**oOoOoOo**_

Jack slowly moved his hands away from his face, chest heaving and eyes wide. He stared unblinkingly ahead as a body lurched behind him. It took several moments for him to process that he hadn't been shot, that Isaac had changed his aim at the last second.

His entire frame shuddered as he turned back to see the store's assistant manager slumped over in death.

"Good riddance," Isaac spat. "Worst inside man _ever_!"

Jack tried to process that, but he couldn't, and instead found himself watching the soulless creature in front of him speak into the intercom again.

"Just kidding, Bobby Boy. That was a loose end we had to take care of anyway. Your boy is fine, and he'll stay that way as long as you give yourself up."

"How does it feel to have someone yank your chain?"

Bobby's entire frame shook with rage. It took every iota of self control that he possessed not to charge up to the front of the store and empty the clip from his pilfered gun into the bastards. The most he could manage without losing it completely was to remain rooted to the spot he had stopped when he had heard the gun go off. He barely acknowledged the speaker droning on above him.

"Now, I'm sure you're a reasonable man."

Reasonable had never been a word used to describe Bobby Mercer. It definitely wasn't going to _now_.

"So here's a token of my good faith, to prove that the brat is still in one piece."

A small commotion, feet shuffling and grunting filled the store, followed by quick breathing and a faint "just say something!"

"Bobby?"

Jack's voice came from the speakers, sounding hesitant, a little muffled as if he had trouble speaking, but still very much alive. Bobby grabbed onto one of the half-freezers as relief washed over him. Oh thank god…

"Kick their fucking asses."

Bobby felt himself grin at the steel in his little brother's voice. The fairy had balls; he would definitely give him that. There was a growl as the leader presumably snatched the intercom back.

"Now I want to see your ass up at the front of the store in the next two minutes. Hands above your head, and nowhere near the gun I know you stole. If you're late, or get any bright ideas the next shot you'll hear will be the last thing the kid ever does."

Bobby exhaled a shaky breath as the intercom shut off and Christina Aguilera started wailing over the speakers. Against everything in his nature, he forced himself to breathe deeply in order to calm himself down. Neither his rage at the cruel joke, the undeniable urge to sink his fist into the gunman's face, nor his strong desire to fire off a few rounds into a convenient deserving target mattered at the moment. His baby brother was all right.

He kept that in mind as he shoved himself away from the half-freezer he had used to support his weight. He shook his head, trying to rid his mind of violent thoughts. He might as well get this over with.

* * *

_-_

_So I know you were all wondering how Isaac could have possibly topped the stupidity of knocking Jack around a few chapters ago. I think it is safe to say, in addition to digging the hole for his grave, he's started nailing the coffin shut. I wonder what sort of crazy shenanigans our not-so-beloved villain will come up with next chapter! Stay tuned!_

_Again, I haven't been able to get to answering reviews today. I'm glad everyone enjoyed the Grocery Store Ninja ;) And some of you guys crack me up, seriously!_

_In sad news, we're almost caught up to the point that I've written out. Hopefully tomorrow will be a shorter day, and I can work on the frustrating Chapter-That-Must-Not-Be-Named. Until Chapter Seven, kiddies!_


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's Notes_: (For those trying to save on time, just skip on down past the horizontal line break, then come back after you've finished the chapter). For those left…

Hello my little chickadees! (Wait, do I have any chickadudes reading too? If so, hello to you too). Welcome back to "As the Supermarket Turns". _Last time!_

Bobby disarmed a thermonuclear device.

_Bobby wipes his brow. "Phew. Good thing I took that bomb disarming course at Cass Technical!"_

Grey couldn't find baking soda.

"_Noooo! Where is it?"She twirls in a circle, screaming in anguish._

Jack had an epiphany.

_Jack, holding an advanced copy of the next chapter, slams it down. "She's going to do WHAT?"_

And Caleb revealed something startling.

"_Cain… I'm pregnant."_

_Cain faints._

All right, it's official, my author's notes have become long, cumbersome, and more than a _little_ wack. And now we return you to our current chapter in, "As the Supermarket Turns".

**-**

* * *

**-**

**Chapter Seven:**

This wasn't exactly how he'd pictured this night.

He had not planned on having a gun pointed at him, being held hostage, or being used as a pawn in mind games against his brother. He _had_ sort of expected the ringing in his ears from the hard smack Isaac had given him for his outspoken words over the intercom.

The grip on his neck tightened, and he could feel Isaac's fingernails dig into his skin. He winced, but it was hardly the worst sensation he'd experienced that night. Jack was starting to wish for his concussion-like symptoms from earlier. The half-aware daze took the edge off of reality. Right now the pistol digging into his ribs was making its presence far too known.

As each second passed, he could feel the gunman growing tenser. Behind them, Caleb had resumed his mutterings as he kept an eye on the frightened hostages and Terrell groaned loudly as he came to. Cain remained silent, stoically keeping an eye out for their expected visitor.

The barrel in Jack's ribs dug in further as the stocky figure of his brother emerged from the frozen food section. Bobby had his arms raised high with his hands resting on the back of his head. He marched in their direction slowly, as if he was trying to project the image of submissiveness.

It didn't really work on him. All Jack could read from his brother's stance was that he was _pissed_, but he was refraining from knocking anyone's heads together at the present moment. Isaac's fingernails scraped the skin on his neck as they sought for purchase. They eventually sunk into a particularly fleshy part of Jack's neck, and he had to control the urge to wince. He could tell Bobby was barely controlling himself at the moment.

"On your knees!" Isaac barked.

Bobby complied, never moving his gaze from his opponent's. He continued to stare as Cain moved forward and patted the elder Mercer down. His stare never wavered as Cain extracted the gun that Bobby had taken earlier, or as the large man jammed the barrel of his gun into Bobby's temple.

Isaac tried not to acknowledge that a small bead of sweat had started to trace down his cheek. There was something decidedly unnatural about the man's gaze, which seemed to cut through all of the bluster that he projected. Isaac finally, thankfully, broke their staring contest as he flicked his gaze to Cain.

"Anything else?"

Cain shook his head.

Isaac let out a breath slowly, reminding himself that _he_ was the one in control here, not some stunted white son of a bitch.

"All right, put him with the others."

Cain roughly shuffled Bobby to the rest of the hostages. To Isaac's discomfort, the man never broke his hardened gaze. Caleb had briefly, hysterically, tried to convince Isaac that the man in front of him wasn't human, and that messing with him was _not_ a good idea. He'd dismissed the notion, because really, when had Caleb ever been serious? As he stared into the soulless, unblinking gaze, Isaac started to wonder if maybe he should have given the insane ramblings some credence.

Isaac marched himself and the kid closer to Mercer, willing the pounding of his heart to settle. He swallowed past the lump in his throat, eyes still unable to move away from the glare burning a hole through him. To Isaac's surprise, his voice remained steady. "You try anything else; don't think I won't be aiming for your brother here."

The eyes begged to differ, and Isaac quickly shoved the kid to his knees to join the group. He spun on his heels, making a show of checking the front of the store as he tried to gather the remnants of his nerves. Who the _hell_ was this guy?

Bobby watched as Isaac retreated for the door to regain composure. He couldn't keep the satisfied grin from creeping across his face. It felt good to rattle his opponent, at least emotionally, since he couldn't physically rail against the man for trying to make him believe that Jack had been shot.

Now that he finally had his brother at his side, Bobby finally let his gaze drift from the leader of this sorry excuse for a holdup gang. He eyed his little brother, quickly taking stock of every scratch, bruise and blemish. He felt his jaw clench as he saw the bright array of colors decorating Jack's jaw.

Unheeding of the scrutiny from the robbers he took Jack's face in his hand and gently tilted the teen's face as he tried to get a better look at the bruising. Jack tried to pull away, but Bobby just tightened his grip. "Knock it off. Let me see."

"It's nothing," Jack mumbled.

"Like hell it is," Bobby's voice practically vibrated with suppressed rage. "Now shut up and let me see what they did to you."

Although his gaze promised retribution to each of the abusive bastards standing in front of him, he continued with his examination. His hand stilled in their probing as Jack sucked in a quick breath. His fingers brushed across against a sizeable goose egg on the back of Jack's head and what suspiciously felt like dried blood. Bobby pressed his lips into a thin line as he glared at each man standing in front of them. Maybe they didn't know it yet, but they were all dead men.

"Which one?" He whispered quietly to his brother.

Jack refused to look him in the eye, something Bobby didn't quite understand at the moment. With no help from his brother, he carefully eyed each man in front of him. The twitchy man who had refused to meet Bobby's gaze since his arrival may have seemed a likely candidate, but Bobby noticed that he had the safety on his gun. He wasn't a bad ass, just a pretender. He looked next to the man that he had knocked out earlier. He was still trying to catch his breath and figure out what happened. If he had knocked Jack around, he certainly didn't remember it.

Bobby flicked his gaze to the behemoth of a man that watched them like a guard dog. He took in the security guard uniform, not understanding the significance, nor caring to. The man met his gaze unflinchingly. His gaze was fierce, but held no actual malice against any of the people kneeling on the ground. Bobby made a mental note to keep an eye on him and turned to look at the final member of the gang.

Isaac briefly met his gaze before looking elsewhere. The eldest Mercer narrowed his gaze, watching as the leader of the gunmen refused to meet his gaze. Without a doubt, he knew exactly who had knocked his little brother around.

When Isaac finally met his gaze again, he could see recognition enter the other man's eyes. He understood that not only that Bobby knew what he had done, but that Bobby had no intention of letting Isaac go without proper retribution.

"How much time now?" Caleb tittered nervously from his corner.

Thankful for the excuse to break the staring contest, Isaac turned to answer him. "Fifteen minutes."

Bobby turned his attention back to Jack who stared listlessly ahead. He hadn't expected Jack to hail him like a conquering hero, but he thought his little brother would be happier for his presence. He nudged the kid in the shoulder.

"Hey," he kept his voice quiet, mostly because he didn't feel like advertising their conversation for everyone to hear, "what's wrong?"

Jack just shook his head and stared ahead.

"Did they do anything else to you?"

Jack shivered for a moment, remembering the moment he thought that the gun had been fired at him; or when Cain had pretended like he was going to shoot Abel when Jack wouldn't tell them about Bobby. Finally he shook his head, softly so as to not agitate his injuries. "No."

Bobby didn't believe that for once second, as it was plain that Jack was lying. Instead of calling him out on it Bobby wrapped an arm around his brother's shoulders. Jack stiffened and pulled away. Bobby frowned, now knowing something was definitely wrong.

"Jack?"

Jack clenched his jaw, a painful action at the moment, but one that helped him focus. Turning to look into his brother's concerned face, he felt his resolve crumble. Rather than let himself break down in front of the bastards that had turned this shopping trip into a nightmare, he let himself relax into his older brother's protective embrace.

Bobby tightened his grip as Jack's eyes closed, whether in pain from his injuries or from the emotional toll of the night, he wasn't sure. Bobby pretended not to notice as the shoulders underneath his arm started to shake ever so slightly. In his many years as the older brother, Bobby had learned that there were times when he was allowed to pick on his brothers and make jokes at their expense, and times he needed to just be there and be quiet. Right now, he didn't find anything about their situation particularly funny.

If he had anything to say about it, these guys wouldn't be walking out of here without wheelchairs. That is, if he let them get out at all.

_**oOoOoOo**_

The silence that had descended after they had managed to grab the final holdout came to an abrupt end after five minutes.

"Would it kill you to give the kid some Tylenol?"

"Bobby," Jack mumbled in protest.

"Shut up, Jack. If they're going to crack your jaw open the least they can do is let you have something to take the edge off."

"M' fine."

"I said shut up," the older brother muttered to the younger.

"We've only got ten minutes left," Isaac shot back.

"Does it look like I care what you shitheads have planned?"

"You don't seem to care about much," Isaac shifted his eyes from Bobby to Jack, letting the obstinate man know that he knew exactly what Bobby cared about.

"Ma says it's all part of my charm." Bobby's tone was light, but his eyes narrowed ever so slightly, just enough to remind the gunman that he knew who had given his baby brother all of those bruises.

"Your mother and I have different definitions on charm."

"I have the feeling she and you have different definitions on a lot of things."

"The answer is no, he can just wait."

"Oh come on, I'm sure your buddy there wouldn't mind a few himself. That is if he can swallow anything after our little wrestling match."

Terrell glared at Bobby as he rubbed his sore throat. The thought of swallowing something seemed pretty low on his list, but something that might numb the pain in his throat wasn't altogether unappealing.

"He should've been more careful."

Isaac ignored the death glare that bored into his back.

"Now c'mon, Boogie, that's no way to treat a brother."

Isaac bristled at the slur. He just about had it up to here with both Mercers. He briefly considered using the kid to force his older brother to behave. One look at the grip Bobby had on the teen let him know how suicidal a move that would be.

"I have to ask, is the payout worth all of this?"

Isaac tried to ignore him.

"Exactly how much cash do you think they keep on hand?" Bobby pressed on. "I would ask the assistant manager, but he seems a little quiet since you shot him."

Isaac's teeth gritted together.

"You don't seriously think they wouldn't make a cash drop, do you?" Bobby pressed on. "I mean look at the place you decided to rob! You think you're going to make more than a few thousand? Is that really worth it, I mean, after you split it up with your partners here?"

Isaac tried willing his eye stop twitching.

"You _were_ going to share with them, weren't you? Not just use them until you guys got out of here and give them the same payment your snitch got?" Bobby had heard the comment about the inside man over the intercom, and had quickly pieced together what had happened.

"Maybe I ought to break your jaw too," Isaac shot back.

"Well, I don't think Jack's jaw is broken. If that's what you were aiming for, you did a piss poor job at that too."

Jack, for his part, felt like sinking through the floor at the moment. He wasn't comfortable with people shouting at each other, even more so when it was about him. Bobby hadn't worked his way up to shouting, but oh, he'd get there. Just like he'd get himself shot if he didn't shut up.

"_Stop_," Jack muttered to his brother.

Bobby ignored him, finding it far more satisfying to push Isaac's buttons. "You know, a smart guy would've just left after the first snafu. Which one are you on now? Twenty?"

Isaac snapped his gun up. "I could lower it down to nineteen without much of a problem."

"Like you're not going to already."

Jack's eyes bugged out of his head as Bobby spoke what all of the hostages had been fearing.

"I mean face it, had you thought this out more you would've covered all of your faces. I guess that's what those hoods were for, but you didn't work real hard at keeping them up."

Isaac snorted in disgust.

"Maybe you hoped that you could just threaten us into silence by acting like you'd visit us at our homes and finish the job."

Jack stared at his older brother as if he had sprouted an extra head. What the hell was he doing?

"Of course, I guess you hadn't been _planning _on shooting your inside boy, at least not in front of so many people."

"Bobby—"

"You just think he's just going to _forget_ that he left several witnesses that not only saw him pull the trigger, but could pick him out of a line up easily?"

Jack didn't think that at all, but he certainly didn't see how _reminding_ the psycho with the gun was going to help things.

"Thing I'm wondering is," Bobby continued on, "is if the rest of your boys are as stone cold as you. None of them have shot anyone, hell, I doubt any of them have done more than point their guns around. Nervous guy back there hasn't even taken the safety off his piece."

Isaac glanced over at Caleb, and glared. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Caleb dropped his gaze to the ground and took the safety off his gun.

"Of course your boys know that if you _do_ kill all of us, that certainly won't go over well when the cops walk in and find a massacre. There'll be a media circus. Which means the cops won't be able to stop until they've found each one of you."

"You shut your mouth right now!" Isaac finally snapped.

"Make me," Bobby grinned.

Isaac sneered back and started to move his pistol in Jack's direction. With a snarl Bobby shoved his brother out of the way with one hand, grabbing a hold of the gun with his other. The two began wrestling for control as everyone, including the remaining robbers, watched the proceedings with wide eyes.

The two scrapping opponents listed to the side as Bobby tried to force Isaac to his knees and to more even ground. Isaac kicked out savagely, catching his opponent in the ribs. Bobby flew back, losing his grip on the gun. The lack of resistance caused Isaac's arm to swing wildly, just as a round exploded from the gun.

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_Next time on "As the Supermarket Turns"… oh wait, we already did this joke. Well this is probably my favorite chapter of all the ones I've written. I'm a sucker for brotherly fluff. As you can see, it was short-lived. Darn that Bobby. I'd smack him with a rolling pin again, but he hid it. It's all right, I plan on getting my revenge on him with my Christmas Carol fic._

_I mean—CLIFFHANGER! GASP! SUSPENSE!_

_I need sleep._

_Catch you boys and girls on the flip-side!  
_


	8. Chapter 8

_Author's Notes_: As I write this, I must extend some authorly concern towards SerpentsAttire, who apparently fell over the cliff last chapter, and is hanging on desperately. I hope this has been posted in time to save her. If not, I extend my deepest regrets to her family.

Now, I've heard some unsettled rumblings from the reader base, possibly for leaving off on such a tense note. I have a feeling my James Bond villain impersonation in the review replies didn't help. Now all I have to say it, please, put down your torches, and Scapegoat, put away that rope. We don't need a lynch mob. Look! Chapter Eight is right below this author's note.

See. Violence doesn't solve anything (unless you're Bobby Mercer. In that case, you have rage problems.) Now, why don't you guys go read chapter eight while I—

—run for the hills! Suckers! By the time you finish reading this chapter, I'll be long gone!

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**Chapter Eight:**

There was a reason Jack hated the grocery store.

Silence followed the explosion of sound.

Until tonight, violence hadn't been the reason.

Jack could only watch in horror as Abel fixed him with a shocked expression, blood pouring out from the wound in his chest. He wanted to move forward, to try and catch him as he had done for Jack earlier. He couldn't move, and simply watched as the cashier tipped forward, a strangled half-cry escaping.

A painful grunt grabbed Jack's attention, and he watched as Isaac gave his brother a solid punch to his jaw. His lip quivered as Bobby fell to his back. Jack shuffled backwards, but stopped as his left hand landed in something warm and sticky. His eyes drifted down to find it mired in blood that had started to pool from Abel's still form.

He pulled his hand away and stared, almost fascinated, as Abel's blood dripped from his fingers. Beyond the focus of his hand he could see Isaac land another kick to his brother's ribs; dimly registering the fact that his entire body had started to shake. Instead of Abel, all he could see in front of him was Jerry, drowning in a pool of his own blood.

The angry bellow caught everyone off guard. Before Isaac could even react Jack had tackled him to the ground and arms swinging wildly. He alternated between punching, clawing, gouging, anything to inflict pain back on the man that had hurt his family.

Bobby shoved himself off the ground, watching with a mix of fascination and horror as his baby brother literally tore into the lead gunman. Jack was the most docile of the Mercer brothers; he was the one they had to protect from that kind of rage. Never had he heard such a sound come from his brother, and he hoped to _never_ see this side of him again.

Bobby moved forward, intent on breaking up the fight. Kicking Isaac's ass was _his_ job, and Jack did not need to have any blood on his hands. Before he could make it to his brother's side, the brutish man beat him to it.

The man's beefy arms his arms around Jack's torso and heaved him off of the fallen gunmen. Bobby felt his lip lift into a sneer. _No one_ touched his brothers.

He charged forward and tackled the larger man. Cain didn't let go of Jack, but the sudden weight made all three of them go down in a tangle of limbs. It took several moments of flailing arms and legs before they could untangle themselves.

Jack fell back heavily, somewhere between a daze and his violent crazed state. In front of him Bobby was hunkered low, ready to take on either Cain or Isaac if they so much as looked cross-eyed at either of the brothers. Isaac just lay on the floor, moaning pitifully.

Jack blinked, his mind fogged in a haze of adrenaline and fear. He was almost detached, as if everything happening around him was happening to someone on television. Bobby and Cain had both risen to their full heights, the latter standing a good four inches taller than his brother. They stalked around in a circle, like two dogs snapping at each other before a fight. Cain was the first to break as he surged forward. Both men went down in a tumble of flying fists.

The distant sound of a sirens roused Jack from his fog, and he sought out the remaining two members of the gang. Caleb was already on his way out of the store as if he was on fire. Jack and Terrell locked gazes. Loyalty warred with self-preservation in the other man's eyes. Jack watched, fascinated that he could almost read what he was thinking by the play of emotions.

As he was unarmed and in deep shit if caught, Terrell decided to side with himself, and was following the lead of the other coward.

Jack would've checked on the other hostages, but they were just about useless as far as he was concerned. The only one who had shown any sense of decency had been caught by a stray bullet.

Jack turned his attention back to the fight at hand. Despite his shorter stature and smaller frame, Bobby had both tenacity and unadulterated rage on his side; Cain never stood a chance. Sometimes watching Bobby fight was like watching a dance in some ways. There was always a rhythm, an ebb and flow to the exchanging of blows. It was something that his brother did naturally, like it was an extension of who he was.

Cain had the eldest Mercer on his back, and their hands grappled together like they were playing a very intense game of arm wrestling. Bobby's face contorted as he tried to push the bigger man off of him, but his opponent shifted his weight, effectively pinning the smaller man to the ground. Bobby lifted his lip into a sneer, and abruptly shifting his straining arms to pull the monster of a man towards him.

Cain didn't even have time to be surprised as Bobby used his head as a battering ram, clanging it again his opponents face. It gave Bobby all the leverage he needed as he shoved the other man off of him. He quickly planted his arms on the ground as leverage, before lashing out with his legs. Bobby's thick soled boots caught the other man on the temple, and he finally slumped to the ground, unconscious.

Bobby watched him closely, but the other man was out cold. Satisfied, he leaned back on his arms, letting his eyes drift shut as every blow from the fight made themselves known on his abused body.

He didn't see that Isaac had crawled over to one of the discarded pistols. Nor did he see the shaky arm raise and come to rest on him.

Jack's shout of warning caused him to snap his eyes open just in time to see his little brother barrel into him. Bobby tried to ask what was going on, but was drowned out by the roar of a gun being fired. They both tumbled backwards as they collided, Bobby landing hard on his back, and Jack sliding a few feet further. Bobby grunted as he shoved himself off the floor.

"Jack, are you—"

Jack pulled his right hand away from his side, staring in fascination at his fingers that were freshly stained red. The muttered words of confusion sounded far off as blood pounded in Bobby's ears, his vision going as red as the blood on Jack's fingers.

The roar almost sounded like another gunshot, the only thing that marked it as human was the way it vibrated with rage. Bobby was a blur as he tackled Isaac, fists satisfyingly connecting with solid flesh, over and over again. He didn't let up when his victim stopped fighting back, or even as someone grabbed his arms screaming his name. He flung the interloper away, determined to make sure the monster below him never had the chance to rise up again.

It was the strangled cry that vaguely sounded like his name that made him pause. Bobby looked away from the man that he was literally beating to death to see his brother on the floor next to him, grasping his side from where he had landed after being thrown off.

"Don't kill him," Jack's voice was tight with pain, "stop."

Bobby's fist, poised for another blow, dropped to his side. His eyes widened in horror as he realized who had been trying to stop him a moment ago.

"Jack," he breathed as he scrambled to his brother's side. "Stop moving you idiot."

Jack ignored him as he tried to sit up, hissing as his side protested. "I just—landed wrong."

"That happens when you're _shot_," Bobby growled, eyes once again seeking the man he'd beaten into unconsciousness.

"No, I wasn't—" Jack frowned. He was sure he would have felt something if he had been shot. His whole side had just suddenly blazed with numbness. Although now it wasn't so numb, in fact, it throbbed with each breath he took. "I think—"

Bobby turned his attention back to his brother, prying Jack's hands away so he could see what had happened. With one hand he carefully peeled the shirt and jacket up. The fabric clung stubbornly for a second, before moving with a slight sucking noise. Bobby sucked in a quick breath before looking up sharply.

"Someone call an ambulance!"

Jack craned his neck, shifting uncomfortably, so he could see what was going on. His shirt and hoodie had soaked up most of the blood, revealing the bloody swath that had taken a chunk out of his side, just below his ribs. Seeing it suddenly made Jack aware that the throbbing was really more of a searing pain, pulsating and punctuating with each breath he took.

He would have stopped breathing, if that would have stopped the pain. Unfortunately he couldn't seem to control his breaths, and they kept coming in, faster and faster. Accompanying each one was a white hot stab, as if someone was trying to gut him with a knife.

A firm grip took a hold of his hand, providing him a tether to the world past the pain. Jack opened his eyes, unaware that he had clenched them shut, to see Bobby staring at him in concern. "Stay with me, buddy."

"He shot me," Jack managed, incredulous.

"Just now figuring that out?"

"Shut up," Jack mumbled, but it was drowned out by the steadily approaching sirens. He frowned, trying to focus on the sounds and his brother. "That was quick."

"I don't think it was any of us." Bobby felt the grip on his hand tighten. "Just hang in there."

"I told you I hated the grocery store."

"Would it help if I said I'm sorry?"

"I just wanted a freaking toothbrush!"

"I know," Bobby tightened his grip in return, the action betraying the levity in his tone. "I'll get you a nice one."

"Don't patronize me," Jack groaned, "old man…"

"I'll get you some floss too."

Jack half-laughed, half-sobbed at that. Stupid Bobby and his stupid jokes with stupid gunshot wounds. Wait, no, that was Jack's stupid gunshot wounds. Damn it was hard to concentrate.

Bobby said something else, but Jack couldn't understand, watching his brother's lips move, as if out of synch with everything else. The sirens wailed louder, almost deafening.

"I'm gonna pass out now," Jack muttered. He dimly felt someone rattle his shoulder right before the blissful curtain of unconsciousness dropped over him.

* * *

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_Well… that catches us up to the completed chapters. Meaning, um, this is most likely the end of the daily updates. Now, now, I know I spoiled you guys, and honestly I thought I'd be all caught up by now. It's just time got away from me and—put the tar and feathers down, please._

_Bad Scapegoat! Bad! I see that manic gleam in your eye!_

_Not you too Lovebuggy!_

_Whilom? Halo? Serena?_

_Aw crud… good thing I sent this author's note via telegram! Haha!_

_I apologize for the shorter length of this chapter. Breaking away from the "toothbrush" device freed up the structure of the story a bit, but of course, now you want to kill me since I sort of shot Jack and he can't take the lead anymore. I promise I am hard at work on chapter nine, and will post it as soon as humanly possible. There's a better chance we'll be going into chapter ten now though, as this new direction CERTAIN characters (coughBOBBYcough) took me in gives me a few more loose ends to wrap up. The fluff will return, I promise!_

_This author's note will self-destruct in ten seconds. Have a good day._


	9. Chapter 9

_Author's Notes_: I totally expected to be laboring over this chapter for days on end, drowning in the angst of not getting you guys an update… then I slipped into my Hemingway persona, and when I finally came out of my daze, I realized it was five in the morning. Huh. To my surprise, this actually flowed pretty well.

I'm still, um, recovering from my Hemingway tactics for writing, so no amusing author's notes this time; I'll say something loony tomorrow when the world stops spinning.

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**Chapter Nine:**

"Jack, wake up you little fairy!" Bobby shook the teen's shoulder roughly, hoping to jar him back to consciousness. The rising and falling of his brother's chest assured Bobby that he was only unconscious, and not worse.

He might have been less concerned if Jack _didn't_ have a head injury. Having experienced a concussion first-hand on more than one occasion, Bobby knew the importance of keeping Jack awake until a doctor could look at him.

It looked like he was out cold for now.

"Damn," Bobby muttered, and returned pressure to the still-bleeding wound. He was using his scarf to soak up the blood. It was ruined, but that was fine with him. Anger coursed through his veins as he tried to staunch the flow of blood. He wanted more than anything to take out his anger on the man responsible, but his brother's life was a little more important.

Luckily the bullet had only grazed him. That itself seemed to be a miracle considering the way everything had happened. He wasn't certain, but he had a feeling that Jack's stupid, brave action had saved his life.

He looked up, seeing the remaining four people just staring, slack-jawed. Bobby felt his blood pressure rise watching them just sit there.

"What the _hell_ is wrong with you people? Call a damn ambulance! There's a phone hanging on each damn checkout stand!"

"They don't—" the night manager started.

Bobby's icy glare stopped his protest. The shouting apparently galvanized the businessman into action, and he immediately rushed over to the pile of discarded belongings, searching through until he found a cell phone. Bobby watched him for a long moment, until he was satisfied that he was dialing.

They probably needn't have bothered, as that was the moment the automatic doors swished open. Two officers walked in cautiously, their weapons raised. They both quickly swept the area visually, taking in the injured and the dead, as well as the multitude of weapons and blood.

Bobby didn't recognize either of them, which was probably a good thing. They probably would have immediately fingered him the person responsible for all of the carnage. Which wasn't fair in this situation; he was only _partially_ responsible.

Neither cop dropped their weapons, but one grabbed his radio, calling in the situation, as well as requesting backup and several ambulances. Bobby winced at the "multiple casualties" lingo. Jack was _not_ a casualty. He was just taking a blood-loss/concussion/bullet-graze induced nap.

He watched, annoyed, as the officers fanned out as they began to secure the area. Couldn't they see the injured _bleeding_ people? God, he hated cops.

"_Hey_!" He snapped at them. "We need an ambulance!"

One of the officers spared him a glance. "We have to secure the immediate area."

"It's _secure_," Bobby growled. "The sleeping beauties are two of your perps."

The man didn't pay him any mind, and instead signaled something to his partner. The radio on the man's hip chirped something. Bobby didn't bother listening. He knew all of the police lingo, one of the perks of being on such intimate terms with them. He instead focused on Jack, lowering his head so he could talk without anyone eavesdropping.

"Look Jackie, we've got more people here."

Jack didn't respond. Bobby really hadn't expected him to.

"This is all Angel's fault you know. Now I _know_ you're thinking this has to be Bobby's fault for picking the wrong store. Well I'm telling you, I would've had to come here anyway to pick up half of Thanksgiving dinner anyway."

He tried to squash down the feeling of guilt spreading in his gut. He knew exactly was to blame for all of this. "Well, if that horny bastard hadn't swiped your toothbrush in the first place, you would be at home writing angsty poetry about how they discontinued your favorite brand of peanut butter."

Bobby paused. "Okay, maybe you would compose it about something more woeful, but give me a break here. I'm not the sensitive one."

Jack was silent.

"You make lousy conversation when you're unconscious," Bobby muttered disapprovingly. "Just remember that when you wake up, pumped full of those wonderful hospital drugs, this is all _Angel's_ fault."

Bobby tightened his grip around the hand that had gone slack when Jack had passed out.

"Not mine," he whispered, not believing it at all.

The store was soon crawling with police. After what had to be ten or fifteen more cops, something that by itself set him on the edge, the scene was _finally_ announced as secure. The police fanned out, each taking a witness. He caught the gaze of one headed in his direction. The man obligingly sank down to his eye level.

"Yes?"

"_Now_ can you get the damn EMTs in here?"

The officer took in Bobby's protective stance over the fallen teenager and nodded. "They're on their way, sir."

"They should've been here as soon as those first two walked in!"

"We have protocols—"

"I _told_ them it was secure!"

"I'm sorry," he didn't sound contrite, just professional. "It's city policy. We can't risk more casualties if someone slipped your notice."

"Nothing escapes my notice when my brother's life is at risk." Bobby's voice dropped to a quiet, dangerous level. "Now where are the damn paramedics?"

"We just gave them clearance. They're on their way," he assured the elder Mercer.

"Get them here _faster_."

"Sir, why don't you settle down? You're not being very cooperative."

"I'm not cooperative on my best days, least of all days that some punk decides to shoot my little brother!" Bobby would have risen up at this point and gotten in the man's face, but he wasn't going to let go of Jack. Not until the damn EMTs got there. The cop didn't know how lucky he was.

The doors opened again, letting in a wave of firefighters and emergency medical technicians. They split ways, filing off to practically everyone in the room who wasn't a cop. Bobby watched as a woman in her thirties dropped down across from him. She gently laid her hands on Jack's chin, tilting it up ever so slightly, before leaning down and putting her ear a few centimeters from his mouth. Bobby blinked as he watched her; unsure of what she was doing exactly.

"Do you know what happened?"

The directness of her question almost took Bobby off guard. He shook himself mentally, forcing himself off of the defensive before responding. He wasn't about to scare away the person who would be able to tell him that Jack was going to be okay.

"He was grazed by a bullet after a gun went off," Bobby could swear he could feel the wound bleeding under the scarf.

She frowned as she noticed the bruising along his jaw. "And this?"

"Bastard hit him," Bobby's eyes sought out the man responsible, feeling a spark of anger as he saw that another EMT was attending to the man that hurt his little brother. The man didn't deserve medical attention. "_Twice_."

He could see the officer frown as he jotted it down. He would've slapped the pen and pad of paper out of the man's hand on principal alone, but both of his hands were currently occupied. Lucky _lucky_ cop.

"I think," Bobby corrected, "he didn't say. I wasn't here when it happened." Because it _wouldn't_ have happened if Bobby had been around. He would have made sure of that. "He's got a lump on the back of his head."

She nodded as she finished checking something else, could've been his pulse. Bobby wasn't a paramedic, he didn't know. She circled around to the side Bobby was on, and he could feel her nudging him out of the way. Reluctantly he moved, holding onto Jack's hand until the last second. Letting go seemed wrong, but he knew she could do more help than he could.

More EMTs came, swarming his little brother, and pushing Bobby further and further away. He watched, helplessly as they cut away what little clothing Jack deemed as appropriate winter attire. He didn't look around to see that the same actions were being performed on all the other injured people. He didn't _care_ about them.

More than anything, he wanted something to do. Even if it was as simple as continuing to hold one of Jack's hands, so he could let his brother know, on some level, that he was still there; still looking out for him as much as he could.

It was when they started loading him onto a backboard that Bobby had almost lost it. He had watched enough television to know that meant nothing good. He surged forward, heedless of any protocol. Someone stepped into his vision, the cop from earlier. Bobby's fist clenched unconsciously.

"Sir, we're going to need your statement."

"You'll _get_ it," Bobby seethed as several EMTs and firefighters hefted the board his brother was strapped to up. He shoved his way past the throng of people, dogging their footsteps out of the store. He could hear the cop shouting after him, but he didn't care. The police in this town were useless. Tonight had proven that fact again for Bobby many times over.

"Sir!"

Bobby marched on, boots crunching on the thin layer of snowflakes that had fallen since he had come. Had it been long enough for snow to start falling? He didn't know. Time had lost all meaning.

They loaded Jack into one of the waiting ambulances. If he had bothered focusing on his surroundings, Bobby might have found the multitude of flashing lights nauseating. He was of a single-minded focus at the moment, so nothing else mattered.

He grabbed one of the EMT's hands as they started to close the door of the ambulance. "That's my brother."

"I'm sorry, but we need to get him to the hospital."

"Aren't family members allowed to ride along?"

The EMT shook his head, expression regretful. "I'm sorry sir, there's no room."

No room. No room for older brothers who couldn't properly look after their younger siblings. No room for people who couldn't keep a lifelong promise.

It was the word he never used, except in the direst circumstances. "Please. He's my baby brother."

"I'm sorry," the EMT repeated, his gaze meeting Bobby's. He could see the regret there, the concern, but also the stoic professionalism. Their first concern was the health of their patient. Bobby knew he should be glad of that, but all he could see was Jack slipping from his fingers.

"_Please_."

The doors closed, leaving him alone in the cold.

"Please," Bobby whispered as the vehicle pulled away, leaving him in the parking lot with several very irritated police officers. Helplessly he watched as the ambulance pulled away, its lights brightening up the winter night. As the lights themselves disappeared from view, Bobby felt his fist clench on its own accord.

None of these punks were going to get away with this. Not if Bobby Mercer had anything to say about it.

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_SerpentsAttire wins the "cracks Grey up so much she can't see straight" award for last chapter. Give the girl props. She's holding on for dear life, with a tiny plastic toothbrush the only thing to hold her weight, and still finds time for humor!_

_I would also like to say that I myself love cops. They're wonderful people, who have helped me out on more than one occasion (there's not many people you can turn to when you find a strange man in women's underwear sleeping in your little sister's room... long story.) Just going with the character's impressions in this chapter, but stating for the record that the police are awesome._

_Okay, that aside—look! I didn't fail you guys. You only had one day to wait on finding out about poor Jack._

_I also officially have no clue how many more chapters are in this thing, as I'm halfway through eleven, and there's still a lot to wrap up. When I sat down to write this thing a few weeks back, I imagined twelve pages, not twelve chapters. Yeah, yeah, I know, you guys aren't complaining. Except for more chapters. ;)_


	10. Chapter 10

_Author's Note_: Wow! We broke the hundred mark on reviews today! Congrats to SparksDiamond on being our 100th caller--er, reviewer. Grey, tell her what she's won!

_Why thank you, Grey! SparksDiamond, you've won your very own "Whump-Me" Jack Mercer doll! Hug it, comfort it, or throw it in the air and pummel it! It's there for all your violent, Jack torturing needs. ("Whump-YOU" Bobby Mercer doll sold seperately.)_

Safety Warning: Whump-YOU Bobby dolls are not to be used in close proximity when taking out your aggression on Whump-Me Jack dolls. Whump-YOU Bobbys are known to be overly-aggressive and very protective of Whump-Me Jacks, and can cause a variety of injuries if they are present at the time of whumping.

(Toothbrush-Swiping Angel and Quietly-Exasperated Jerry dolls coming soon.)

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**Chapter Ten:**

It took too long for Bobby to get to the hospital.

First, he had to find the name of the one Jack had been taken to. The ambulances had split the load of casualties between Henry Ford Hospital and Harper University. Something about high priority trauma patients and adequate staff. It took far more finesse and diplomacy than Bobby was used to get the name he needed. It was a situation that Jerry would have been far more proficient at. Since Bobby was on his own, he swallowed his pride. It's what Jerry would do, for Jack's sake.

In exchange for the information he needed, Bobby had to cooperate with the police. The very thought made his skin crawl. These were the people that had sworn to protect and serve, but had let he and his brothers slip through the cracks and suffer through the childhoods they had; pasts and futures that only Evelyn Mercer had been willing to rescue them from. These cops were also the people that were now keeping him from getting into his car and being at Jack's side right now.

Bobby had managed to scare off the first officer assigned to take his statement, and wound up with a hard-nosed sergeant. He had started from the moment Jack and Bobby had entered the store and gone to the point where the police had arrived. To his credit, Bobby had given a fairly straightforward statement.

At least, that was until the man had made what might've been a complimentary statement to anyone else in the world. "Well, son, it looks like you put up quite a fight."

Bobby bristled at that. Nobody had the right to call him "son" but Evelyn. Only she had earned that privilege. He eyed the ambulance that they had loaded Isaac into, expression turning sour. "I'd say it was the other way around."

The sergeant had narrowed his gaze at that, but said nothing else.

It was a balancing act. Bobby had to play good robbery victim right now, so he could get to the hospital. They would connect his name and record later and find him again. He knew that much. He just had to behave long enough so they would let him go for the moment. Every now and then his hand would fish into his pocket as he retold yet another section of his story to yet another cop. The feel of plastic there comforted him, as it gave him a definite plan past getting to the hospital. He hadn't had time to look at the ID in depth yet, so he wasn't about to surrender it to the police.

After about the fifth rendition of his story, one of the officers had noticed his stiff movements, and had seemed worried about Bobby's health. He dismissed the concern. Cops didn't bother themselves with anyone other than their own kind. However, it gave him opportunity to escape the situation, and he had finally been given permission to leave the scene. It probably helped that a few of the other people who had been held at gunpoint (Bobby Mercer was never a hostage), had vouched for him as well.

He seized the opportunity and began to shuffle to his car. A young black woman, one of the cowering many, rushed forward, trying to thank him enthusiastically. He dodged behind one of the numerous emergency vehicles to avoid her. He had no desire to talk to any of the remaining hostages, as none had come to his brother's defense before Bobby arrived. They and their gratitude could go to hell as far as he was concerned.

Bobby settled into the driver's seat of his car uncomfortably. Only an hour or so earlier it had fit like a glove, and he and the car had been almost one driving down the road. Now it felt strange, huge, and empty. He shook his head as he forcefully shifted into reverse and pulled out of the spot. He didn't have time for such useless thoughts right now.

He let his instincts take over as he drove towards the hospital Jack had been taken to. Growing up as an aspiring hockey player, Bobby had made the rounds of each the city's health care centers, and he could remember how to get to each one as if it was finding a room in his mother's house. Some things never left you, no matter how many years you had been gone from home.

He let his subconscious guide him, his mind drifting to the late night/early morning activities he would be participating in. The rectangular piece of plastic burned a hole in his pocket, like a fresh paycheck in a shopaholic's purse. As he pulled into a parking space into the ER of John Ford's, that pull faded. He had other responsibilities first.

Bobby slowly made his way to the ER desk, trying to take care to make his movements look natural. The nurses here were sharp, and if your face twinged the wrong way, they would have you in an exam room faster than you could blink. He schooled his face as he approached the front desk.

"Hi. My brother was brought in here not too long ago."

"Name?" The lady at the desk pulled out a chart.

"Jack Mercer."

She frowned, looking over the list. "I'm sorry, sir, no one has come in here by that name."

Bobby's heart constricted, fearing that he had gotten wrong information somehow. He closed his eyes, assuring himself that it was a fifty-fifty chance, and he could always head to the other hospital if he needed to. Then he remembered the pile of belongings that had been piled up.

"Wait—he might've been brought in without ID." Bobby gave the nurse the sincerest, concerned older brother expression he could muster. Fortunately for him, it was genuine, as those manning the nurse's desk had a lot of experience with everyone in the health care industry, and could spot someone faking a mile away. "He's sixteen, dark blonde hair all over the place." Bobby licked his lips, hating to repeat the next part. "Head injury, bullet wound."

The woman watched his expression carefully, studying not only his face but his body language. There were some things not even the best actor could emulate, most of which was the concern of one family member for another. Her expression softened as she recognized he was telling the truth.

"Give me a minute, honey. I'll see what I can find out."

Bobby tried not to let his relief show. When the ambulance had pulled away from him, his sense of control had slipped away. He needed to have the right place. He _needed_ to know what was going on. He continued to lean against the front desk, as if he were just choosing this place as his latest hangout. Bobby Mercer was never concerned. He was always cool, calm, in control of a situation.

"Sir?"

Bobby almost jumped out of his skin.

He cleared his throat as the woman in front of him eyed him closely. "Our _privacy_ policy states that we cannot release information on any patient unless we can confirm the identity of them."

Bobby closed his eyes, willing some semblance of calm. If he were to come back as a superhero in a future life, he would have the power to shatter bureaucracy whenever needed.

"I know what my brother looks like, ma'am." His mother's lessons on manners aided him right now. The lectures on pissing a woman in charge off also echoed in the recesses of his mind. He was treading vary shaky ground right now. "I can fill out his health forms right now, if that helps anything. His wallet was mixed with everyone else's at the scene."

The woman raised her eyebrow, as Bobby had drawn his ID out as soon as he announced his relationship to Jack.

"What about yours?"

"I—was—," he paused, swallowing, as he forced the next word out, "—late."

She merely stared at him, eyebrow raised.

"I—I need to make sure he's okay. We got separated."

He couldn't express the rest of his guilt aloud. It was too much of an affront not only to his pride, but also to his status as the oldest brother. He hadn't been a hundred yards away from Jack, and he hadn't protected him from the bastards that had done all of this.

He closed his eyes. He hated using the word he had with the paramedics. It was so degrading. It gave up control. However he would do it if he needed.

"Why don't I check for you, honey?" The voice suggested kindly.

He opened his eyes, seeing the chocolate brown gaze regarding him with empathy. Not sympathy, but _empathy_. She understood what he was going through. If she could, she would find out what he needed to know.

"Thank you," he breathed, quietly, and leaned against the glass surrounding the nurse's station, moving aside enough for the next person to come up to the window. He wasn't sure how long he stood there, but the same nurse had found him later.

"Hey, baby."

The gentle tone roused him from the almost zombie-like state he had fallen into.

"The police faxed over your brother's school ID. Would you mind filling out a little paper work to help us push everything through smoother?"

Bobby could have hugged her. He settled on taking the numerous insurance forms, many of which he had to guess the information on. He'd filled them out many times for him and the rest of his brothers, but Bobby had moved since then. He had his own insurance, independent from his mother, so he had to dig deep into his wallet to find the right information. He knew it was outdated, but he hoped it would be accurate enough for now.

After far too long for his liking he was led to a room, somewhere between the intensive care ward and the emergency room. He stood at the door, watching various machines pump his little brother with vital fluids and monitor his vitals. A long chart of what had been done, and what still needed to be done was attached to the end of his bed.

Bobby didn't bother with it. It was for the people who worked here. The people who would bring the lifeless unconscious person in front of him back into his morose, touchy baby brother. That was their job.

His hand fingered the ID in his pocket.

Bobby's job laid elsewhere.

He finally gathered the courage to walk into the room and grab his brother's hand. "Hey, fairy."

Jack breathed in and breathed out in time to the blip of the heart monitor. Bobby closed his eyes, forcing the rest of the words out. "Don't you worry, little brother."

The room continued to beep in time, heedless of Bobby's need for more interaction.

"This is going to be taken care of. I promise you that."

Jack continued to sleep. That served Bobby just fine. The kid had a long enough of a night. He was in good hands right now. There was no way that Bobby was going to try and wake Jack up for his own peace of mind. There were other ways of finding that.

His eye found the phone hung up not too far from the reach of the hospital bed. He glanced around the room, trying to find a clock. He was unable to find one. If he bothered wearing a watch, he could've checked it. He didn't, it was just one other thing to attract attention to yourself in this world.

Instead he hesitantly picked up the phone, studying it's instructions for reaching an outside line. He punched in a "nine" before dialing the rest of the number. He knew it was late, but the phone rang. It took a few rings, before a tired feminine voice picked up. "Hello?"

Bobby's courage almost deserted him at that moment. He sucked in a deep breath, and reminded himself of his responsibilities. "Ma?"

"Bobby? Why aren't you and Jack home yet? Did you forget something on the list?"

"No," he answered quietly, hating himself for making this call. "We're at the hospital."

Silence met his words for a few moments. "Are you all right?"

"I am," Bobby swallowed. He hated this. He hated having to admit to his mother that he had let her down. That he had let one of his brothers get hurt. "It's Jack."

He didn't let her answer; he didn't want to hear it right now anyway. "You should get here."

"Bobby," her voice sounded strained, laced with worry for Jack, and compassion for him.

His hand found the plastic in his pocket again, gripping it so tightly it almost felt like it was cutting into his hand. The nurse's concern, the EMTs', he could take those. He couldn't take it from his mother. That was too much. That made it too real.

"Oh, honey," she whispered, as if she knew without even being in front of him what he was thinking.

He felt his eyes sting. Damn it, he was _not_ going there.

It was like someone else took over his body just then. Invasion of the Wussy Body Snatchers.

"I'm sorry, Ma," he whispered into the phone, "I tried."

* * *

-

_Pack your bags kids, it looks like we're going on a guilt trip! Oh, the angst! The angst! Looks like Bobby's going to need to write some heart-wrenching peanut-butter-discontinuation-induced poetry himself..._

_God, I'm mean! Pfft!_

_The rest of the story is officially plotted out, and I'm about half-way through the eleventh chapter right now. Don't ask me how long it's going to be, I just have no clue anymore. And you know whose fault that is? Bobby! Oh wait, I should probably give him less to be guilty about. Fine, it's Angel's fault, despite the fact that he has yet to make an actual appearance. It's alllll Angel's fault, right Bobby. ::rolls eyes:: _

_And look, Jack is fine… he's just taking his concussion/blood loss/bullet-graze induced nap still._

_Ahem, I mean, stay tuned! To be continued!_


	11. Chapter 11

_Author's Notes_: Meaty chapter below. Time to hop off the guilt train, I think we've ridden it far enough. Originally I had planned to gloss over all of this (and the previous two chapters), and just continue in Jack's point-of-view. You know who thank for our long detour.

_Angel_, that's right. Angel has informed me he that he's talked the manufacturers, and while there will still be toothbrush swiping action on his doll, the name has officially been changed to the "Bringing-Sexy-Back" Angel Mercer doll. I shook my head sadly, but I have no control over these sorts of things. Jerry joined me in the head shaking, and we both hid our faces as he tried his best Justin Timberlake impression.

It was not a pretty sight.

Oh right, chapter eleven! Onwards!

**Chapter Eleven:**

Bobby managed to take control of his body back from the overly emotional fairy that had hijacked it and finished the phone conversation, giving Evelyn the necessary information to meet up with him. After hanging up the phone, he sank down in the chair placed conveniently near the cot Jack was laid out on.

"Way to be a drama queen, Jack," he muttered, forcing his usual annoyance into his voice. Oh, he needed to get of there and punch someone soon. "Had to call Ma, now she's going to be all concerned. Hope you're happy."

Jack lay in his bed.

"Yeah, just keep living it up. Just know I'm going to kick your ass for all of this later."

Bobby bit his lip as he watched his brother's pale features. The fluorescent lights from the hallway washed out Jack's complexion more, making his skin appear whiter than it was. His mind drifted back to when Jack had first come to the Mercer house almost ten years ago. The kid had been more nervous than all of Bobby's teachers combined, and just as jumpy. The simple act of Evelyn trying to hold his hand as they walked across the street had caused a minor incident.

She had gotten through to him, like she had with every one of them. Somewhere along the line Bobby had fallen for the wide blue eyes and messy blonde hair, and Jerry and Angel had followed right behind him. He again took Jack's hand in his, giving it a firm squeeze.

"You're such a freaking pussy."

The hand tightened around his, and Bobby straightened, watching as Jack's eyes opened into slits. A heavy weight dropped from his shoulders as he stared into his little brother's eyes.

"Hey." Bobby's voice was not heavy with emotion. He simply had a cough trying to work its way through his throat.

Jack frowned, looking more than just confused, but worried. "Where's Jerry?"

_**oOoOoOo**_

The phone ringing at two in the morning was not the first thing Jerry Mercer wanted to wake up to. He groaned as sleep started to seep from him, and awareness started to prick at his brain. He heard Camille mutter something beside him about emergency union meetings.

Blindly he grabbed the phone and brought it to his ear. "What?"

"Jerry?"

The voice on the other end sounded more than a little confused by the abrupt greeting, although Jerry would have recognized it anywhere. "What the hell do you want at this hour? People are trying to sleep, you know."

"Hey, I'm your big brother. I can call you any time, night and day. Especially after I pulled you out of that big—"

"_Stop_," Jerry spat into the phone, with as much force as anyone could muster after being woken from a deep sleep. "Just let me know what the hell you want so I can go back to bed and yell at you in the morning."

An uncharacteristic pause met that statement, and Jerry felt himself wake up a little more at the lack of response. "Bobby? Is something wrong?"

"Can you just talk to Jack for a few minutes?"

Jerry frowned. Talk to Jack? Why the hell did he need to talk to their youngest brother? "What?"

"It's—he just needs to hear your voice."

The stumbling on the sentence brought Jerry fully awake. Bobby never hesitated, on the phone, or in person. He always said what he meant, and meant what he said. He sat up in the bed, cordless phone clutched tightly in his hand. "What's going on?"

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Jerry gave Camille a small glance and quietly padded out the room so he could talk louder. "Bobby?"

"He's really confused right now, Jerry. If he could see that you're alive and well—or just talk to him for a bit, it should help convince him you're fine."

"You better tell me what the hell is going on right now," Jerry snarled into the phone.

"We just went to the grocery store, Jerry. I swear, I only let him out of my sight for ten minutes—"

Jerry felt his guard going up. This wasn't like Bobby. "What the hell happened to Jack?"

"He thinks you're dead, Jerry," Bobby whispered, as if he was trying to hide the conversation from someone else. "Just talk to him for a few minutes, let him know you're all right. He won't stop asking me about you."

"Fine," Jerry tried not to let the coldness in his gut affect his tone of voice. "Give the phone to Jack. But I'm coming down there after I'm done talking to him."

"Good," Bobby murmured quietly.

The phone went quiet for several moments before Jerry could hear soft breathing on the other end of the line. "Jack? Is that you, little bro?"

Jerry's heart almost broke as he heard his baby brother's voice crack in disbelief. "Jerry?"

"Yeah, it's me. How are you doing?"

"I thought I saw you…" Jack stumbled on the syllables, as if he was having trouble forming words. Bobby could be heard mumbling something over the other end of the line. If Jerry hadn't been awake before, he certainly was now. Something definitely was wrong in the Mercer house tonight. Jack found his voice again, "You're okay?"

"I'm fine," Jerry assured the teen, glancing back at the bedroom. "How are you?"

"I'm—you're fine?"

"I swear I'm all right. Would I lie to you? Ever?"

"No," the voice on the other end was almost a whisper. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure, Jackie, but hey, how about I come on over there?"

"Don't need to," Jack muttered, his voice sounding muffled, as if he was trying to speak around something difficult.

"I'll be over as soon as I can. Let me talk to Bobby again."

There was a soft noise of agreement before the phone was passed back to the original caller. "Yeah?"

"Where are you guys? And what the _hell_ is going on?"

"Too much to go over on the phone," Bobby hesitated again. "Sorry for waking you up so late, Jer."

Jerry's eyes widened. Bobby _never_ apologized, whether for waking someone up, or smacking them on the back of the head. It didn't matter what time of day it was, he took great pleasure out of doing both to all of his brothers. "_Where_?"

"We're at Henry Ford, room 302."

"I better get a full story when I get there."

"You will."

"You sure know to announce you're back in town."

"You know me," Bobby responded, the humor obviously forced. "Have to make a big entrance."

"I'm hanging up now," Jerry announced before he hit the end button on the phone, unable to take the weirdness anymore. He stared at it for a few moments, trying to figure out what could possibly be going on that would make Bobby act so weird. He shook his head as he quietly made his way back to his bedroom. He needed to let Camille know, once verbally, as well as in a note, before he got dressed and left. Something told him he wasn't going to be back before morning's light.

_**oOoOoOo**_

Jack blinked, looking confused, his movements sluggish. In the time since Bobby had last seen him his jaw had swollen, which made the phone conversation with Jerry difficult.

"You fainted," Bobby said gruffly, hopefully guessing what Jack was trying to figure out.

"Passed out," Jack murmured, slightly cross.

Bobby pursed his lips together. He wasn't sure if he wanted to smile at that, or want to punch something worse. "I've heard that faint is a proper medical term."

Jack looked like he wanted to argue, but that would require too many words. Instead he settled on. "Why?"

"Why what? Why did you _faint_?"

Jack managed to glare at him, despite being only half-awake. It was probably the superhuman abilities of being a teenager.

"I'm not the doctor, how should I know? It's just a flesh wound." Just a superficial gunshot flesh wound, Bobby corrected in his head. He didn't want to be an ass right now, but he just wasn't good at the sensitive stuff.

"Jerry's coming," he finished lamely.

"Store?"

"Yeah, we were at the store? Or are you asking if it's still there? No, I didn't blow it up. I'm not _that_ destructive."

Jack smiled faintly under all the bruising, but then frowned as he seemed to realize he wasn't in his own bed. "Not home?"

"No," Bobby said carefully, "we're not. We're at the hospital."

Jack's eyes widened and he seemed to come more awake. Bobby stepped forward, putting his hands up. "Now calm down, you're fine. You're fine."

He didn't know how much Jack remembered from what happened, and he didn't want to remind him right now. He definitely did not need Jack in a full blown panic attack. Wide blue eyes focused on him, full of apprehension.

"We just ran into a little trouble at the checkout line is all." That was the understatement of the year. "No worries."

Jack's hand started to trace up towards his face, and Bobby quickly grabbed his hand. "Now, what did I say? When did you stop listening to me?"

That seemed to give Jack something to focus on other than being in the hospital. "N'vr did."

"Yeah, I'll give you that."

"J'rry?"

Bobby closed his eyes in frustration. They had just gone over this. Jack's pronunciation also seemed to be getting steadily worse. He wondered maybe his wakeful state was making the pain in his jaw more pronounced. He debated on whether he should call in a nurse or doctor. Jack never seemed to respond well to them. He couldn't just let him sit there suffering though.

Something tugged on his hand and he looked down to see the blue eyes staring at him in concern. Bobby's jaw flexed as the urge to go out and do violence blossomed in his chest. He couldn't take much more of this.

"Jerry's coming," he repeated his statement from earlier.

Jack tried to tug on his hand again, and Bobby snatched it away. He _really_ couldn't do this right now. He needed air, he needed space, but he couldn't leave Jack alone. He was afraid if he stayed in the room much longer though, he might vent his frustrations on the kid, and that would be just one more thing he fucked up tonight.

A soft knock on the door grabbed his attention, and he turned to see Evelyn standing there, watching him. Behind her Angel's tall frame blocked out half the view of the hall.

Oh thank god, he could go hurt someone now.

Bobby cleared his throat. "Hey, Ma."

"Oh, what have you boys got into now?"

Bobby stepped to the side. It was a cowardly move, but the moment she saw Jack her maternal instincts would kick in, and he would be able to slip away. He was going to get an earful about this later anyway. She let out a small gasp as she caught sight of Jack's face. A small spike of guilt lanced through him. Right, smooth move there, Mercer.

"Oh, Jackie," she rushed forward to take her youngest by the hand.

Angel sauntered in slowly, taking in his little brother's condition with a careful eye. He was too focused on Jack, so it took him by surprise when Bobby slugged him in the shoulder, _hard_.

"Shit," he whispered harshly and turned an accusing stare at his oldest brother. "What the hell was that for?"

"This is all _your_ fault," Bobby whispered back, tone just as brittle.

"My fault?" Angel's whisper grew harsher. "Was I asleep when I decided to use his face as a punching bag?"

"You stole his damn toothbrush!"

"I gave it back!" Angel protested.

"_After_ you used it on the dog!"

"Damn tattletale!"

"I ought to kick your ass—"

"Boys," Evelyn's tone snapped. "I may not hear your exact words, but I can tell that you're arguing. Knock it off. Jack doesn't need this right now."

"Yes, ma'am," they chimed in unison, tones projecting practiced repentance.

"We'll finish this later," Bobby muttered.

"Whatever," Angel crossed his arms and strode towards the bed to get a better look at Jack. The swelling around the teen's jaw was plain as day, as well as the multitude of colors decorating it. His hand tightened around the bed's railing as he stared at the bruise, realizing it resembled the grip on a pistol. Someone had pistol whipped his little brother… anger coursed through his veins.

He tossed a glance back at his eldest brother, who looked like he was ready to jump out of his skin. Apparently whoever was responsible still needed to learn their lesson, if Bobby's state of agitation was anything to go by.

He absently rubbed his arm where Bobby had slugged him. That was definitely not a playful punch. Bobby hadn't given any details over the phone, so he was still in the dark on who had done this, or why. He watched as Evelyn smoothed Jack's hair and muttered something comforting to him.

Slowly he ambled back to his older brother. "You want to tell us what happened?"

"Not in front of him," Bobby muttered, watching as their mother seemed to soothe Jack's nerves. She was always better at that than him. "I don't know how much he remembers. Probably better if he doesn't."

"Yeah, that's healthy."

"You don't _get_ a say in this," Bobby pierced him with a glare.

What. In. The. Hell.

So he had borrowed the kid's damn toothbrush, what did that have to do with _anything_? It wasn't all that long ago that Angel would have been intimidated by the ire emanating from Bobby. His time in basic training had changed him, for the better in his opinion. He stepped in close to his older brother, shoulders squared. "What the _hell_ is wrong with you?"

"Nothing," Bobby muttered and looked away. "I need to get out of here."

"Not without me you aren't," Angel's voice was low, angry.

Evelyn looked up at them, a knowing look in her eye. Angel caught the gaze, and indicated their mother with a jerk of his head. "I'll stay with him, you tell her what happened."

"And you?"

"You can fill me in on everything when we go find these bastards."

* * *

-

_Well looky there, seems that Bobby managed to catch that pesky Angst Elf that's been plaguing him since Chapter Nine. I hear he's found a really nice cage for it too. Actually, I'm totally lying. He tossed it into a raging river, saying something about wanting to see if fairies can really fly._

_Sadly, they sink._

_(Then he tossed FFnet in there for me too, since it insisted on turning this entire freaking CHAPTER into italics, forcing me to go through and manually plug them in. Second day in a row on hating this story FFnet, what the hell?) Ahem. Rant over.  
_

_Oh, and let me take a brief moment to return some fic pimpage. HaloFin17 just finished posting a hilarious story full of the good brotherly fluff, that, uh, is sadly lacking in this fic at the moment. Go read, laugh, be merry._

_Because I'm going to make you sad by saying these three dreaded words: To Be Continued…_

_(Oh stop pouting. It'll probably be tomorrow looking at my track record.) _


	12. Chapter 12

_Author's Note_: Before I start this chapter, I need to extend thanks to a great group of people, the Fanfic-Med mailing list on Yahoo Groups, that really helped me out in regards to um, how to fix Jack after I broke him. Most specifically Cheryl McGowan, who helped answer all my little nitpicky questions. I'm not sure if she'll read this, but the thanks is there :) They're a whumper's best friend!

-

* * *

-

**Chapter Twelve: **

Jack blinked owlishly at Angel. "B'bby?"

"He and Ma stepped outside for a second."

Jack mumbled something else, it almost sounded like he said "hurt". Or maybe "work". Kid really didn't need to be talking with that jaw.

"Man, you can't stay quiet even when it hurts you, huh?"

Actually the opposite was true. Jack had come out of his shell since coming to live with the Mercers, but he wasn't what Angel would call "long-winded". Most of the noise he made came from his guitar. Jack ignored his question and instead stared at the door to the hallway, where he could see part of Bobby's figure, slouched over as he talked to their mother.

"You want me to grab a nurse, see if she can give you something for that?"

Jack shook his head softly. If Angel did that then he would have to _go_ to find a nurse. He didn't want his brothers to leave him. He wasn't sure why, everything was still muddled in his brain. He just knew he needed them there. He could wait for pain killers. He'd suffered through worse before. He couldn't remember exactly when that was at the moment, but he knew that he had.

"Sorry, man," Angel muttered, taking in the swollen jaw again. "That really sucks."

Jack's forehead scrunched up in confusion. He really didn't know what Angel had to be sorry for, unless he was the reason he was there. That didn't make sense though, as he knew his brother would never hurt him. He just shook his head, annoyed that his jaw had tightened up to the point where it made speaking so difficult. Short syllables were the best he could manage without pain flaring up his jaw. A dull ache persisted in the back of his head, as well as an angry throbbing in his side that wanted to make itself known.

The memory danced at the edge of his mind, details of what happened so tantalizingly close, but just far enough out of his reach. He could remember the feeling though; terror, anger, rage. The most disturbing part was that he only image that he could recall fully was Jerry lying in a pool of blood.

He had just talked to Jerry though, hadn't he? Or had he imagined that?

Bobby had said Jerry was coming though, although he didn't sound happy about it. Maybe he and Jerry had gotten in a fight, or worse, what if the reason Bobby was so unhappy was because the image in his mind was real? He swallowed hard and looked back up at Angel, whose face had hardened into a cold mask.

Much to Angel's surprise, Jack grabbed a hold of his sleeve, tugging insistently.

"What? What's wrong?"

"J'rry?"

Angel frowned. "What about him?"

Jack tugged again, a frown marring his bruised face.

"I don't know what you want, Jack. Do you want me to call him?"

Jack shook his head, frustrated. Why was no one concerned about where Jerry was?

"Hey, look, I can call him if you want. It's just late."

Angel sighed as Jack looked away stubbornly. He was really starting to regret volunteering to stay in the room. It was killing him not hearing what happened. Whatever it was, it had to have been bad enough for Bobby to want Jack to forget about it. He shot an impatient glance at the two people in the hallway, frowning as he could see that an aging man in a lab coat had joined them. Looked like the doctor was here. At least Jack could get some pain meds now.

**_oOoOoOo_**

"We had to perform an ultrasound, but you should be happy to know that there was no internal bleeding. Your son is very lucky, as often injuries of this nature can be more severe."

"Like it actually going through him?" Bobby muttered darkly.

The doctor sighed, watching as Evelyn gave her oldest a tempering look. "The speed at which a bullet hits can cause a pressure wave, which can do more damage than the bullet itself. Your brother is very lucky."

Bobby's eyes blazed as he looked at the doctor, voice dropping even lower. "Lucky? You think he's _lucky_ that this happened to him?"

"Bobby," Evelyn's tone was warning.

He bristled but leaned away from the doctor.

"We didn't have to perform any surgery. He just has a few stitches, which will need to be kept dry."

"Thank you, doctor," Evelyn appeared relieved at that news. So much had happened in the few hours she had last seen her son. "Is there anything else?"

"We gave him a tetanus shot and some antibiotics to fight against infection. You'll need to make sure he takes the full course."

"He will," she assured him.

"I've also scheduled a CAT scan," he watched her widen her eyes in concern. "It's standard procedure for head trauma. We just need to be sure, you understand."

"Of course," she said, laying one hand on Bobby's arm. She could feel it twitching underneath her palm. He was taking this hard. "Why don't you go in with Angel and Jack, honey?"

"I'm fine," Bobby said tersely. "What else?"

"We're going to keep him overnight for observation. We'll see how the scans turn out, and make a decision in the morning if we can release him."

Evelyn thanked him, and Bobby tuned the rest of the conversation out. He had learned all he needed to. It was serious, but it looked like Jack was going to live. As he jammed his hands into his pocket, his fingers brushed over the plastic ID. He wasn't so sure the same could be said for everybody else.

As the doctor left to continue his rounds, Bobby could feel his mother level an annoyed gaze at him. He tried ignoring it to the best of his ability.

"I know I raised you with better manners."

"Sorry," he managed to keep from spitting the apology, but it still came out curt.

"What's going on in that head of yours?" She asked quietly, but firmly.

"I'd rather not talk about it."

"That's the problem Bobby, you never do. You prefer to do all your talking with your fists."

"They make more of an impact."

"Punny." Evelyn drew herself up to her full height. "You don't have to tell me what you're thinking though. I think I can guess, and I'm going to tell you now _not_ to."

"Don't go get some coffee?"

Evelyn crossed her arms. "I'm serious. Don't you go start any trouble now, Bobby Mercer."

"I won't be _starting_ anything, Ma."

"Or finishing it!" She pointed a finger at him and leaned in close. "Jack needs his big brother here, not in jail because he felt the need to go kick someone's head in."

Hand still inside his pocket, he rubbed his fingers over the now warm plastic. She knew him entirely too well, which meant that it was going to take a little finesse to get out of here. He followed her back into the room, catching Angel's gaze. Despite Bobby's perhaps unfair accusations earlier, he could see that Angel wanted retribution as well. At least he had one ally at the moment.

Bobby let his gaze drift down to Jack, who for all the world looked like he was _pouting_. In spite of the anger simmering under the surface he found himself smirking at the petulant look. Maybe he didn't give Jack enough credit; it seemed he was already starting to bounce back into morose and moody. He reached out and ruffled the kid's hair, grinning wider at the annoyed glare that was directed at him.

"Hey, sunshine."

Jack lifted his lip in a sneer. Combined with the glare and the bruising, he actually did manage to look a little intimidating.

"Nice to see you in such a good mood."

He reached over to ruffle the wild mess of hair again, only to have Jack grab him with his IV-less hand.

"Bobby, don't pick on your brother."

"I'm not picking."

Jack eyed the hand, as if he was weighing if it would be worth the pain in his jaw to bite it. He settled for tossing it away roughly. Bobby appraised the action. Yeah, it looked like Jack was going to be fine. Just fine.

He casually sauntered away from the bed as Evelyn leaned forward and smoothed out the hair that Bobby had just mussed up. With their mother distracted, he looked over to Angel, who nodded back almost imperceptibly.

Time to roll.

"You don't look so well, man," Angel said, stepping up to Bobby.

Evelyn looked up sharply, and Jack's eyes darted in their direction.

"I'm fine," Bobby groused, tossing away the hand Angel laid on his shoulder.

"Did someone look you over when you got here?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Bobby shot back.

"Bullshit," Angel touched the back of his hand to Bobby's forehead.

"Watch it," he muttered softly before turning away, shoulders quaking as if he was trying to hold in a cough. The action agitated his sore ribs, so the wince that crossed his face was real. "Man, leave it alone."

"Robert Mercer," the maternal voice spoke up, "are you hiding something from me?"

He turned back, feeling his face flush a little from the pain in his ribs. "Of course not, Ma."

"You're such a lousy liar, Bobby," Angel growled and clamped a hand on his older brother's shoulder. "You want me to take him downstairs and have someone look at him?"

She eyed Bobby carefully, before nodding at Angel. "Don't come back up until he's been given a prescription or a clean bill of health."

"Sure thing," Angel replied, hustling Bobby out of the door.

As soon as they were down the hall, out of ear shot, Bobby turned to Angel. "Laying it on a little thick there, weren't you?"

"Me? You got to teach me how to fake a flush like that. I think that sold her."

"Trade secret," Bobby forced a grin, even as it felt like a band tightened around his chest. He was going to need to wrap it when he got home.

Angel sobered, remembering the reason for their little charade. "I hope you know where you're going."

Bobby withdrew the driver's license from his pocket for Angel to see. "I'm thinking we start here."

"Not bad," Angel grinned and swiped the license with one hand, and held his other out.

"What?"

"I'm driving," Angel stated.

"No way in hell. It's _my_ car."

"I wasn't completely kidding back there, you look worn out."

Bobby eyed him carefully, wondering if he had noticed anything in particular. Bobby had been careful and deliberate with his actions, so as to not agitate his ribs. He resisted sighing, realizing it had been a long night for him as well. After another moment's hesitation Bobby handed his keys over and snatched the license back. "Fine, but if you run over any curbs, your ass is grass."

"Sweet," Angel grinned as they stepped into the elevator. "So when are you going to tell me why we have to go do this?"

"In the car," Bobby muttered as a security officer walked by. "In the car."

The ride down the elevator was quiet, as the normally loud and boisterous member of the Mercer family stared off into space, his expression stony. Angel kept glancing at him, uncomfortable with the silence. Of all his brothers, Bobby was the most like Angel. They both had problems with the emotional stuff, and they both preferred to use violence as a means of expression. They just went about it differently.

Bobby was a wild ball of energy, flying off the handle at a moment's notice. He thought his best when he was in the middle of the action. It's like chaos helped him concentrate. Angel was more calculated; he preferred to know the players before he leapt into the fray. Of course, a hustler had to know his target; otherwise he would find himself in a lot of trouble very quickly.

The elevator chimed softly as they reached the bottom floor, and Bobby burst through the doors past Angel. Angel shook his head and lengthened his stride to catch up. Bobby kept his silence up as they wove through the lobby, out the revolving doors, and into the parking lot.

"Man _slow down_. I've got the keys, remember?"

Bobby gave him an annoyed glance but finally pulled up in front of his car. Angel eyed him as he unlocked and climbed into the driver's seat before leaning over and unlocking the passenger side. Bobby dropped into his seat and shut the door a little harder than necessary.

Angel followed suit and cranked up the engine, tossing another look at his brother. "We're in the car now."

"No shit. Really?"

"And by that I mean spill it. What the hell happened?"

"Some punks decided to hold up the grocery store the ten minutes we planned on being in it."

"Grocery store?"

Bobby glanced at him. "Yes, the grocery store."

"What were you doing there?"

"Well I was picking up some things I forgot," Bobby's voice was quiet. "Jack needed to pick up a toothbrush to replace the one that _someone_ thought was good for canine consumption."

Angel's movements stilled. "Oh."

"Yes, '_oh'_."

"Why the hell didn't you just go to the corner store?"

"You want to turn this around on me?" Bobby's eyes glinted dangerously.

"It's not _my_ fault some stupid ass punks decided to rob a grocery store, Bobby," Angel returned smoothly as he pulled the car out of its parking spot. His face was tightened in anger though. "And it's not your fault either, jackass."

"Damn right it isn't," Bobby snarled and pulled out the driver's license. "I think I recognize the area this place is supposed to be. Turn up here."

Angel followed the direction automatically. "I was just walking in as Mom was getting ready to leave. All she said is you two were at the hospital."

Bobby just looked at him like he was babbling. He probably was.

"Turn up there."

"I'll get him a new toothbrush," Angel muttered.

"I already called dibs on that," Bobby shook his head. "You can get him mouthwash."

"Mouthwash?"

"I promised him floss, too."

"We really suck at picking out 'get well soon' gifts."

"That's because we always make _Jack_ do the girly shopping."

"You think he would be offended if we gave him a shopping list on what to get himself?"

"Angel?"

"Yeah?"

"Drive the damn car."

* * *

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_See? I just can't take myself seriously for that long._

_While you were reading this chapter I received some sad news. The "Bringing-Sexy-Back" Angel Mercer Dolls (with toothbrush-swiping action) have been recalled due to several eyes being poked out. The manufacturers are studying this problem in detail and hope to be able to fix it soon. However the "Quietly-Exasperated" Jerry Mercer Dolls (with soft sighing and sad head shaking action) are now available. Get yours today!_

_More fun in next chapter as the absent (yet seemingly ever-present with how many times his name has come up) Jerry busts a move onto the scene, Bobby develops a lisp, and Angel goes to Starbucks! Exciting!_


	13. Chapter 13

_Author's Notes_: Hello kiddies, pull up a seat, and try one of Auntie Grey's chocolate chip cookies as you wolf down this next chapter. No, seriously, I baked cookies. Why do you think it took so long to post this chapter? We have action, adventure, drama, full-frontal nudity, and a clown car in the pages below! (I may have been lying about two of those.)

Sorry for not replying to reviews for last chapter yet, the day got ahead of me. It's on the to-do list! (Along with wrapping this story up…)

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**Chapter Thirteen:**

Jerry grumbled to himself as he clipped on the visitor's badge and tried to find his way to the elevator from the front lobby. It was late, way too late for anyone sensible to be up; even so, several doctors, nurses, and other members of the hospital's staff strode by. He successfully navigated his way to the elevator, and punched in the number for the third floor.

He leaned his head against the cool metal walls as the elevator slowly started to ascend. He had been trying his best not to worry ever since that strange phone conversation with Bobby and Jack. It was hard, seeing as he had to come to the _hospital_ to get answers. Jack had sounded way out of it, and Bobby hadn't been obnoxious once. Whatever had happened, it was obviously serious.

The cheerful ding of the elevator roused him, and he forced himself to try and wake up as he left, searching for Room 302. He followed the hallway around, finally finding it near that nurse's station on that floor. He poked his head in, expecting to see his older brother pacing. He was surprised to see his mother standing at the bed and Bobby nowhere in sight.

He knocked lightly to announce his presence, and she looked up, a look of relief on her features.

"Jerry."

"Bobby called," he explained as he entered the room, "who doesn't seem to be here anymore."

"Angel took him downstairs to get a doctor to check him out."

"What was wrong with him?"

"I don't know," Evelyn pursed her lips.

Jerry frowned. "And he just went willingly?"

"Oh, he put up a little bit of a fuss."

"A little? As in Angel didn't have to physically drag him out kicking and screaming?"

"He screamed a little."

"Did Angel have to put him in a headlock?"

"No."

Jerry rubbed his chin. "Sounds fishy if you ask me."

Evelyn nodded. She wasn't born yesterday, but her two absent sons had picked their timing well. Bobby also had to get some credit; he had faked looking ill pretty well. Her heart twinged in worry for her eldest son. He had been through a lot tonight as well. Hopefully Angel would keep an eye on him and make sure he didn't do anything too stupid. When they returned though, she was going to take them both by the ear and let them know exactly what she thought of their little show.

Jerry stepped forward and enveloped her in a hug. She leaned into her son's embrace, glad for his presence. A mother could only take so much in one night. His body suddenly went rigid, and she had a feeling he'd caught sight of the youngest member of their family.

He broke away and approached the bed slowly. Like Angel, Jerry could see the swelling around Jack's jaw, as well as the tell-tale bruise. He could feel his mother step up next to him.

"They were at the grocery store, and several men came in trying to rob it."

Jerry could feel unease stirring in his gut. This didn't look like the result of a typical hold-up. He also didn't see Bobby letting anything like this go easily. "You said Bobby looked fine?"

"They were separated when it happened," Evelyn explained, understanding her son's line of thought. "He didn't say much."

"That's not very Bobby-like."

"He's taking this very hard." Evelyn closed her eyes. "I'm afraid he's gone out to do something very stupid."

"Well, Angel's with him."

"I don't know if that comforts me or worries me more."

"They do tend to feed off each other," Jerry murmured, and brushed a stray wisp of hair that had fallen over Jack's forehead.

The action caused the sleeping teen to stir, and his forehead scrunched up before his eyes fluttered open. He stared up at Jerry in confusion, before his eyes widened. To both Evelyn and Jerry's surprise, Jack bolted upright, latching himself around Jerry's forearm.

Jerry looked at his mother, eyes questioning. She shook her head.

"He's been asking for you."

Jerry nodded and turned his attention to his newest appendage. "Hey, little bro."

"Jerry—" He sounded so relieved, so confused. He stared up at Jerry in wide-eyed wonder. "You're alive."

Jerry resisted the urge to sigh. "Yes, Jack. I'm fine. I told you that earlier. Did you forget?"

The grip on Jerry's arm tightened. Jack thought he remembered that, but he couldn't be sure. "I—no. I just—"

Jerry looked at his mother concerned. She smiled sadly. "The doctor said he might be a little confused."

"This is more than a _little_ confused."

Jack let go of his death grip on Jerry's arm and instead poked his brother in the chest, on the opposite side to his heart. He frowned, now really concerned. This was just not normal.

"He shot you, right here." The words were spoken carefully, softly.

"No one shot me, Jack."

Jack, despite his confusion, seemed to find offense in that. He poked again, harder this time. "Duh."

"You're not making much sense," Jerry looked at his little brother helplessly.

Jack lowered himself back onto his bed slowly, wincing as his side protested at his movement. The light anesthesia had not been enough for his sudden jolt. He wished he could express his thoughts more coherently. He could _see_ that Jerry was alive and whole, but the image that had been burned in his mind said differently. It was a memory, he was sure of that. He wasn't sure how it could feel so real, but obviously be wrong.

As soon as his head touched the pillow, he could feel tiredness pulling him down again. He blinked rapidly, trying to stay awake. He didn't want to fall asleep again. He wasn't sure what he would do if he woke up and Jerry was gone.

"Jerry."

His older brother looked at him. "Yeah?"

"Don't go."

Jerry forced a smile. "Don't worry, I'll stay."

"Good," Jack let his eyes drift shut, and his breathing evened out.

"_Someone_ promised me a full story," Jerry mumbled annoyed.

Evelyn sighed heavily. "You know he won't be back until he exorcises whatever demon is in his system."

"Don't you mean beat it to a bloody pulp and stomp on it for good measure?"

"Jeremiah!"

"What do you think he's doing right now? Sipping on coffee as he and Angel talk about their inner-most feelings?"

_**oOoOoOo**_

Bobby took a long drag from his cup of coffee. The searing liquid burned off a few taste buds as he finished his large gulp. He yanked the cup away and stuck his tongue out into the cold night air. "Thit! That'th hot!"

"Dumbass," Angel snickered.

"Thut up," Bobby lisped as he dragged his tongue back into his mouth. The cold air hadn't really helped other than to expose his poor tongue to another temperature extreme. "Thith thithead ith thure taking hith time."

"Man, I hope you don't plan on trash talking him, because he's just going to fall over laughing."

"Thut it or I'll thove my thoot up your ath."

"Good luck with that."

Bobby glowered at his younger sibling. They had arrived at the address listed on the license, a tall apartment complex in one of the city's more run-down sections. Unfortunately the front door was locked. Usually the way in was to press all of the buzzers on the call box. In a complex of this size, invariably there was always one person waiting for someone to show up. However they couldn't afford to tip anyone off to their presence, what they were wanting to do didn't need any witnesses. They would just have to wait until someone came in or left and catch the door. At this hour, it was looking to be a slim chance at best.

"Why the hell couldn't we have waited in the car?" Angel shivered and pulled his coat around himself tighter. He briefly considered stepping out of the shadows into the streetlight so he could at least get some modicum of warmth.

"Can't rithk being theen," Bobby said, redirecting his glare at the cup of coffee in his hand. He would have tossed it at the wall to let it know who was boss. However, it _was_ cold out here, and the cup was keeping his hands warm. The debilitating lisp was an unfortunate side effect. Maybe he would just avoid using words with the letter 's'. "You do the talking."

Angel smirked. "Yeah, we want to scare him, not entertain him."

With his free arm Bobby slugged Angel in the shoulder again, lighter than he had back at the hospital. His younger brother just chuckled softly. Bobby had no plans on letting this Terrell punk off with a few intimidating words. Angel nudged him in the arm and he could more feel than see the direction he pointed. A figure stepped out from an alleyway across the street, looking to the left and the right before he started making his way to the apartment building. The figure stepped into a streetlight, revealing a black man wearing a familiar outfit of khaki slacks and pressed business shirt. Bobby's free hand clenched into a fist.

"That the guy?" Angel asked quietly.

"Yep."

"Too easy."

"Not for him," Bobby muttered and started to step out into the street.

Angel put his arm out, stopping him. "He won't recognize me."

Bobby nodded tightly, seeing the wisdom in that. He watched as his younger brother crept through the shadows, deathly silent like any good Marine. Terrell was too busy looking behind him to notice Angel's approach until it was too late.

He saw the man emerge from the shadows, eyeing him warily. The face wasn't familiar, but Terrell didn't know all of his neighbors. He tried to step to the side, to give the dangerous looking individual some space, but a vice-like grip latched onto his arm. Terrell let out a soft cry as he was spun into the shadows. A hand clamped over his mouth as he was shoved against the side of the brick stairway leading up to the landing of the apartment complex.

Terrell kicked out, managing to catch his attacker in the shin. The man swore softly and shifted himself, so that Terrell was still trapped, but now had an elbow crushing against his windpipe.

"Who the hell are you?" He gasped.

"An avenging angel," the man growled and leaned in.

"I don't have any money," Terrell choked out hoarsely.

"That's not what we came for."

"We?" Terrell whispered harshly.

Bobby stepped out of the shadows, massaging a fist with one hand, eyeing the trapped man in front of him like a hungry lion. Terrell shrank back into the wall, immediately recognizing the person responsible for sending their entire carefully planned operation to hell.

"Oh, God!" Terrell cried as the dark gaze regarded him coldly.

The force against his neck applied more pressure, and for the second time that night, Terrell couldn't breathe.

"He can't hear you right now."

_**oOoOoOo**_

Jerry waited as the machine in front of him took its sweet time dispensing coffee into the small Styrofoam cup. He had faithfully remained at Jack's side until the nurses had come to take him for his CAT scan. Jack had looked so stricken at the thought of being alone, Jerry had volunteered to walk with him as far as the staff would allow.

He had spotted the coffee machine on the way, and returned for a good dose of caffeine to keep his energy up. He'd put in a long day at the factory, and weariness weighed down on him. He would stay though, because it seemed to comfort Jack. He could tell his mother was a little bothered by the reaction. Jerry was just confused by it. In this type of situation he would expect that Bobby would be the one Jack looked to for comfort. Of course, maybe he _would_ if the man had bothered to stick around longer than the bare minimum required.

Jerry huffed an annoyed breath as he thought about Angel and Bobby running off. Jack was his brother too, damn it. They should have had the decency to at least wait and ask him to join their lynching party.

"Mr. Roberts?"

He jumped as someone touched his shoulder. He looked over to see a lady doctor regarding him. "You must be Abel Robert's brother."

Jerry frowned. _Who_?

"Your brother's out of surgery now and is in recovery. Would you like to see him?"

Jerry absently grabbed his coffee and opened his mouth to correct her, but she forged on.

"We managed to get the bullet out, and repair the damage to the artery. There was a lot of blood loss, but he made it through."

He should have finished correcting her, but his curiosity got the better of him. Casually he moved his hand to cover his visitor's pass very clearly identifying him as Jeremiah Mercer. "Where is he?"

"Room 202. Would you like me to show you to it?"

Jerry nodded quietly, and let the woman lead him down a series of hallways. They finally arrived at the right door.

"He's sedated right now. I wouldn't expect him to wake up for a while."

"No," Jerry said softly as he stared through the door at the slumbering individual in the bed, "let him sleep. I just wanted to check up on him."

She nodded, gave his shoulder a soft squeeze before leaving him to what she perceived as privacy between two brothers. Jerry watched her leave, before he uncovered his visitor's pass and entered the room. A combination of moonlight and street lamps streamed through the window, illuminating the face of the sleeping young man on the bed.

He studied the injured man's face, seeing how the doctor could mistake some of their passing features for family resemblance. His eyes drifted down further, and he could see bandages swathed around the man's chest. Jerry's hand drifted up, fingering where Jack had forcibly poked him, where he was supposed to have been shot.

Jerry closed his eyes. "Oh, Jack."

The man in front of him continued to breathe softly, heart monitor beeping softly. Jerry shook his head and quietly left the room. With a head injury and the trauma of what had happened, Jerry was starting to guess why his baby brother was so worried for his welfare. He found himself smiling softly as he stepped onto the elevator, touched by his brother's concern.

"C'mon Jack," he chuckled softly, "the guy doesn't look a thing like me."

* * *

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_And you thought I was lying about the whole lisp thing! I hope this proves to you that you always have to take me seriously until proven otherwise._

_Aww, it looks like Jerry's figured it out. Good thing too, because Jack might've started throwing a temper tantrum if everyone kept looking at him like he was brain damaged. It's time for the action to start winding down. We've got one, maybe two more chapters if my notes are right. Then again, that's what I thought in chapter eight, and look where we are now. (::muttergrumble::) Not sure if there will be a daily update tomorrow, as once again, we are completely caught up to what I've written. Looks like Friday is coming just in time for another Hemingway attempt._

_And apparently FFnet does not hate me tonight, as it accepted me uploading this chapter without any errors, italicizing, or accusations of trying to give them empty documents! Huzzah!_


	14. Chapter 14

_Author's Notes:_ So, I know a lot of you died of shock on Friday night when there was no lovely e-mail in your inboxes, informing you of the latest chapter to devour. Those of you who managed to revive yourselves into zombie-like creatures felt the crushing blow of no new chapters on Saturday. Sunday, well, even the undead have to rest on Sunday.

But it is Monday, a day of work, of drudgery… and of updates! So please my dearest zombie readers, put down that fresh plate of brains, and enjoy my humble peace offering below.

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**Chapter Fourteen:**

Angel pulled the car up to the ramshackle house in a rundown neighborhood close by to the apartment building they had just finished 'visiting'. He glanced over to the passenger's side of the car, watching his oldest brother massage his blood-stained knuckles. Bobby stared out the windshield, a look of utter determination on his face. His cheeks were flushed with color, brow tightening as he tried to keep up his front of stoicism.

Angel had stepped back while Bobby took out his anger on the punk they had cornered, concerned when he could see his older brother wincing occasionally as he worked Terrell over. Angel had finally stepped in, with the excuse of getting a few punches in. He hadn't said anything as they got the name of the other member of the hold-up gang, or when Bobby had shaken an address out of the bloody and beaten man.

As he put the car in park, seeing his brother's face tighten unconsciously in pain, he decided to end his silence. This was stupid.

"What's wrong with you?"

Bobby's eyes darted in his direction, before resuming their stare out the windshield. His tongue was still numb from where he had burned off his taste buds, but he could now work it properly. "Just ready to finish this."

"That's not what I mean," Angel shot back. "You weren't faking earlier."

"Of course I was. I'm a marvelous actor. Didn't you see my Oscar?"

"That's a hockey trophy."

"Same thing."

Annoyed, Angel reached across the seat and lifted both Bobby's jacket and shirt up in a quick motion to reveal a mottle of angry bruises that decorated his brother's chest. It resembled an impressionist painting more than actual skin at the moment.

"_Shit_."

Bobby angrily pulled his shirt back and shoved Angel away. "What the hell, Angel? I thought Jack was the only fairy in the family."

"What the hell? _What the hell_? You're asking _me_ that, when your chest looks like someone decided to use them as bongo drums?"

"It's not so bad."

"You're only saying that because you haven't looked at them, dumbass!"

"I've had worse."

"We're going back to the hospital right now."

He reached for the ignition, and Bobby's hand stopped him.

"_No_."

"No, you listen to me," Angel turned to face his older brother angrily. "I'm not going to play your chauffeur while you run around with a set of broken ribs."

"They're not broken. They would poke more."

Angel's nostrils flared. "It's not worth it! These guys didn't even touch Jack. You said so, yourself."

"They pointed a _gun_ at him," Bobby spat back.

"Both Jerry and I have had plenty of guns pointed at us. I didn't see you tearing Detroit apart then!"

"No, you didn't see that, did you?" The muscles in Bobby's face tensed as his raised voice made him exhale too much, and caused the band around his chest tighten more. "Then again, you never saw those punks after that did you?"

Angel paused, watching his brother take in deep, shallow breaths and at the same time try to stare a hole through him. It was true, come to think of it. He just assumed they had avoided him because they had moved onto other targets.

"Mom would kill me if I took you on a revenge spree while you bled out from the inside."

"It doesn't feel like that," Bobby assured him quietly. He had been in enough scraps throughout his life to know the difference between bruised ribs, cracked ribs, and broken ones. He met Angel's gaze, imploring him with his eyes what his pride wouldn't let him say aloud. He needed to finish this. It was the only way Bobby could truly apologize to Jack for not being there like he should have been. Actions spoke louder than words; and Bobby didn't put much stock into words.

Angel pursed his lips, but he finally let his hand drop from the ignition. "Fine, but I get to take point on this one. You just stand behind me and look intimidating."

"Hey—"

"Don't make me turn this car around—"

"Who's the older brother here?"

"Today it's me since you're too busy acting like an idiot."

Bobby's eye twitched and Angel forced himself not to laugh. Laughing too much might give him ammunition to try something later, when Angel wasn't suspecting it. Instead stowed the car keys in his jacket pocket and reached for the door. "You want to finish this?"

"Let's."

_**oOoOoOo**_

Jerry hadn't been waiting at the door when they finished the CAT scan. Jack had tried to crane his neck and look for his brother, who had assured him he would wait for him, but the nurse had gently pushed him back down. He laid his uninjured cheek on the pillow, stared out at the passing hallway. After a moment, he shut his eyes, as the movement was a little dizzying from his perspective.

As they arrived back on the third floor, he felt someone join the nurses at the side of his bed. Opening his eyes, he could see that it was Jerry, quietly asking the nurses about the results of the scan. He felt himself relax a little. His brother was still here.

Soon they were settled in the room, and Jerry relieved his mother of watch duty. Jack watched them exchange hushed words. After a short discussion she finally nodded and stepped back up to the bed, softly brushing hair out of Jack's face.

"Hey honey, I'm going to go grab a cup of coffee. Jerry's going to stay here with you, all right?"

Jack nodded softly, and watched as she left reluctantly. He frowned and turned back to Jerry. Had he just sent their mother out of the room?

"Hey Jack," Jerry sat down heavily on the chair that had been dragged up next to his bed. "Sorry I disappeared for a second there."

"Liar," Jack groused, referring to the fact that Jerry had promised to wait.

"That's just rude," Jerry smiled ruefully and shook his head. "I actually ran into a doctor, seems she mistook me for someone else."

The younger Mercer tried to prop himself up, but once again, frustratingly, he was pushed back down. He directed the most annoyed glare he could muster at Jerry.

"There's a reason these things can sit up," Jerry murmured and found the control for the bed. "I'm guessing you want to stop lying down."

At Jack's nod he slowly sat the bed up to an incline, so that they were at a more even height for conversation. It suited Jerry better, even if he had to stare at that ugly bruise. After finding Abel, he had thought about how to approach the situation. He had a feeling there was a lot that went on that Bobby hadn't shared with her, and he wasn't sure if those were details he wanted her knowing. Evelyn Mercer was a tough old bird, but that didn't mean Jerry wanted her weighed down with extra concerns. He just hoped that sharing what he had learned might ease Jack's mind some.

He let the control for the bed slip from his hand as he sat back against the chair. "Better?"

Jack just shrugged, and shifted himself so that he was looking at Jerry, and waited for his older brother to pick up his diatribe.

"I wasn't at the store Jack."

Jack resisted the urge to sigh. He knew that, at least in the logical working part of his brain he knew that. The horrible feeling just wouldn't go away.

"The reason you're so convinced I was because there was someone there that bears a somewhat passing resemblance to me."

Jack remained silent.

"He was a cashier at the store. His name is Abel Roberts."

Jack looked up sharply at the name, something clicking in the back of his mind. His fingers tightened on the covers as the horrific image corrected itself from Jerry's face to Abel's. He could feel blood coat his hands, although they had long been cleaned. He sucked in a quick breath as he recalled the feeling of hard metal strike him in the jaw. His heart pounded as he was once again standing off against Isaac.

"Jackie?" Jerry's voice was soft, concerned.

Jack shook his head, swallowing dryly as Isaac's voice boomed over the intercom, counting down, as Cain's finger tightened on the trigger, and the feeling of horrible shame descended on him as he broke and told the hulking man about Bobby.

He clenched his eyes shut as every minute detail came streaming past, like a bad horror movie. He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. His stomach clenched as the assault stopped. He finally opened his eyes, meeting Jerry's concerned gaze clearly.

"What's wrong?"

"I remember," Jack whispered, eyes searching the room for the person that should have been standing next to his bed, but wasn't.

His head pounded, his jaw ached, his side burned with renewed fire. All the while he couldn't help but wonder why his oldest brother wasn't there. He didn't want to ask though. The sick feeling of betrayal was fresh, and he wondered if Bobby had found out that he had broken.

Jerry just continued to stare at him worriedly, but Jack suddenly couldn't look him in the eye anymore. "I remember everything."

_**oOoOoOo**_

The resounding smack of flesh hitting flesh echoed throughout the small house, and Caleb found himself sprawled on the floor, blood pouring down his freshly broken nose. He turned a horrified expression at the tall man lumbering over him, covering his face as another blow came. He knew he didn't have the strength to fight him off, and even if he did, he was even more frightened of the dark silhouette filling the archway that led to the front door, and the freedom.

His entire body ached, groaned, and still he couldn't help but be grateful. Grateful to this nameless stranger that was keeping the demon in the archway from touching him. Years ago his cousin had faced the man in the doorway, and barely lived to tell about it. Now Caleb had incurred his wrath, and completely by accident. If he had known Bobby Mercer was in that store, he wouldn't have set foot in it. And he most certainly wouldn't have been around after that moron Isaac had decided to use the man's kid brother as a whipping post.

He weakly clutched at the carpet, seeing the silhouette move from the doorway, almost glide towards him. He tried to bury his face into the floor, anything to meet the gaze of the man that knelt before him.

The voice was a whisper, but the low volume did not hide the menace or rage. "You better not have been lying."

"I wasn't," Caleb didn't try to keep the whimper out of his tone. "There was no one else."

If there was, he would've gladly given them names so they would vent their anger on to someone else. He was the last though. He hadn't bothered to see if anyone else had made it out of the store, and it had taken him half the nights of ducking through darkened alleyways and backstreets that not even Victor Sweet would've walked down unarmed to make it home. Upon arriving, he had been greeted by the two intruders. He'd recognized the shorter of the two as the man from the store, as the monster he knew would haunt his nightmares.

"Now Caleb," the voice's tone took on a velvet quality, "I would take my brother's advice."

Brother? Caleb turned frightened eyes up to the hulking man that had dealt the blows, now understanding the fury behind them. He shivered, fingers sinking further into the carpet. How many damn brothers did that kid have?

"Because you see, if I wake up tomorrow and see that huge bruise on Jack's face, I might feel the urge to do some more violence."

Bobby leaned in even closer, and Caleb felt his heart stop at the proximity. The whisper dropped to the softest of a murmur.

"I don't think you to see me when I'm like that."

Caleb remembered vividly the ferocity in the man's eyes from earlier that night, the way he had resembled a wolverine as he had clawed into Cain after the large man had tried simply pulling the kid off of Isaac. His beating tonight, he knew, would pale in comparison to the pain he would experience if Bobby Mercer decided to return.

"I wouldn't leave town though," the voice continued, volume slowly rising back into a normal conversational tone. "I'd get really pissed if I had to track you down."

Caleb swallowed involuntarily at the thought of pissing this psychopath off even more. He nodded quietly, urgently, to illustrate that he understood. A hand gently patted his head, and he clenched his eyes shut as it gripped his hair tightly.

"I'm glad we understand each other."

He felt the grip on his hair loosen, and could hear the soft sounds of footsteps receding from his house. He didn't dare rise as he heard an engine roar to life outside, or even when the squeal of tires signaled a car pulling away. He clung to the carpet in his living room like it was the only thing anchoring him. He didn't open his eyes, afraid if he did, he would see Bobby Mercer still there, waiting to finish the job.

* * *

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_Well, it appears when SerpentsAttire decided to stalk Jack, she brought Henriette (the Angst Elf) with her, who now has decided to bite Jack. Poor kid, I really ought to give him a break. If I did though, I think we'd be a lot more bored._

_Next time:_

_Bobby can't find a parking spot._

"There weren't this many handicapped spots when I left!"

_Angel has some explaining to do._

"You see, Ma, I never inhaled."

_Jack throws a tantrum._

"Ow! Those teeth are sharp! Bad elf!"

_And Jerry fights a dragon._

"...I do not!"

_Next time, on 'Will This Fic Ever End?'. Stay tuned!_


	15. Chapter 15

_Author's Notes_: Welcome back my little zombiedees, as we head into the final three chapters of our story here. (I know, I used the 'f' word, _gasp_!) Someone called me on the carpet last chapter, as Angel did not actually go to Starbucks on screen. I extend my deepest apologies for getting your hopes up. I can only promise that sometime in the future (probably not this story, as there's just no time), I will write a scene where Angel goes to Starbucks, and chaos reigns.

In the meantime, chapter fifteen! Remember, Jerry's going to fight a dragon!

"_I am not!"_

Shh, you'll ruin all the dramatic tension.

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**Chapter Fifteen:**

They had to stop at a nearby gas station with a bathroom on the outside to discreetly clean up. Both of the errant Mercer brothers had a feeling their mother would not be pleased to find their hands and knuckles splattered with blood. Neither really expected her to believe their cover story of seeing a doctor for long, so walking in with evidence of a bold-faced lie wasn't exactly a good idea.

They finished in silence, and Angel resumed his duties as chauffer. As they pulled out of the gas station's parking lot, Bobby a potential side-trip to Harper University Hospital. Angel ignored him and pointed the car in the direction of the _correct_ hospital.

"C'mon Angel, it will only take a few minutes."

"Beating them into unconsciousness once isn't enough for you?"

Bobby's face darkened as he remembered Jack's pale, bruised features lying helpless in the hospital. "No."

Angel turned the car into the parking lot. "Ma's right, you could be smart if you would stop to think once in a while."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"They've got cops at their doors, dumbass. I don't think you'd get very far."

"Who says I don't have a plan?"

"Oh really?" Angel raised a brow. "You've got a plan?"

"I plan on winging it."

Angel snorted as he pulled into an empty parking spot close to the entrance. "Well you can just 'wing it' over there without your car keys."

"I could hotwire it," Bobby muttered, not really caring that he sounded like a petulant five-year-old.

"Sure." Angel just shook his head as he got out of the car.

Bobby watched him for a moment, as if he were seriously considering hotwiring his own car so he could continue his bloody rampage across Detroit. Of course, he would have to fix the car up after he was done so no one could drive off with it, and then there were all those pesky questions by the police who _would_ be present at the hospital. He silently got out of the car, glaring at Angel. Damn him and his Earth logic.

He followed his younger brother into the lobby of the ER, frowning when he realized where they were. "Wait, why didn't we park up front?"

"What?" Angel looked back and shrugged. "This was where you parked before."

"Angel," Bobby's tone was warning, but his second youngest brother just ignored him.

"Besides, the front desk is a hassle."

Bobby took a few quick strides until he caught up with Angel, keeping his voice low. "Look, all I want to do is make sure everything is okay with Jack. Then I plan on going home, wrapping my chest, and sleeping for the next day or so."

"Hey man, that's cool with me," Angel replied as they tried to worm their way around the other late night visitors to the ER.

"Not a word of this to Ma."

"Of course not."

Bobby grabbed Angel's elbow, dragging him to a stop. "I mean it! She's got enough to worry about with just him."

"I do solemnly swear on my honor as a marine not to mention your piss-poor job of taking care of yourself during a crisis—"

"Or anyone else."

"Or anyone else," Angel intoned flatly.

The nurse that had helped Bobby earlier seemed to still be on duty, and stopped in front of Bobby, eyeing him critically. "What are you doing here—again?"

"I—" Bobby started, and then looked to Angel, "got lost."

"Mmhmm."

"Isn't that right, Angel?"

"Oh yes," Angel nodded, "we were looking for the snack machine."

"Yes, the snack machine."

"You missed the one by the elevator on the third floor?" The nurse asked disbelievingly.

"I needed Ho Hos," Bobby lied quickly. "That one was all out."

"So you went looking outside—for Ho Hos?"

"Yes."

She looked at Angel, who just shrugged helplessly. "The man is addicted to his Ho... Hos."

She narrowed her gaze between the two, and pointed a crooked finger to the recess to their left. "There's one right there."

"Thank you, ma'am," Bobby smiled graciously.

"Yes, thank you," Angel chimed in, 'good-naturedly' nudging Bobby in the ribs as if he was referring to some inside joke. "You don't want to see him if he hasn't gotten his daily fix."

Bobby was unable to check the strangled groan that escaped nor the wince that spread across his face. The nurse crossed her arms and fixed Bobby with an annoyed stare. He in turn glared at his younger brother, promising many unpleasant things to come.

"You sneaky lying bastard," he gasped as the nurse took him by the arm, leading him to an examination room.

"I promised not to _say_ anything," Angel called after him. "Is it my fault you have a low threshold for pain?"

"Going to kill you," Bobby mouthed to him before disappearing behind a corner.

"Totally worth it," Angel declared as he ambled down a hallway that would take him to main area of the hospital, and to Jack's room.

_**oOoOoOo**_

Jerry had tried to get Jack to talk to him, but the teenager had clammed up. Haunted eyes kept glancing around the room, searching. At first Jerry had thought he wanted to find their mother. When she returned, and Jack still kept stealing furtive glances to the door, he guessed who Jack was really searching for.

Evelyn had tried to convince him to go home, but Jerry refused. As much as he wanted sleep, he could tell that Jack needed more than just their mother there. Besides, he wasn't leaving until he got the _full_ story he had been promised. He wasn't sure how much time had passed, or even what time it was when Angel walked in.

Angel's confident swagger descended into slow hesitant steps as he suddenly found himself faced with the irritated gaze of his mother. She rose up from the chair, approaching her second youngest slowly and deliberately. Even though he was a grown man, Angel felt himself cower a little.

"How is Bobby?" Evelyn smiled tightly, and suddenly Jerry felt very sorry for his younger brother. He'd been on the receiving end of _that_ smile before, and it never ended well. "Did the doctor have anything to say?"

"He—" Angel started and then stopped. "I don't know."

"And why is that?"

Angel looked at the ceiling, as if he hoped perhaps the right answer to the question was written there. It wasn't.

"Is it because you two never had any intention of visiting the doctor for a faked illness?"

"I—"

Jerry closed his eyes, feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on. He'd been through this many, many times before. It always tended to happen whenever he let himself get caught up in one of Bobby's stupid schemes. Apparently even as a grown man, Bobby couldn't help but bring maternal wrath upon those stupid enough to go along with one of his crazy ideas.

"Where's your brother?"

Jerry opened his eyes, seeing Angel look positively torn. He narrowed his gaze as Angel sighed, wiping a hand across his brow. "He's parking the car."

"Parking the car," Jerry repeated quietly.

"Yeah, you know how he is about that piece of junk. Doesn't want to park it near anyone else. They might scratch the paint."

"Right," Jerry said sourly and rose.

"Where are you going?" Evelyn asked.

"I worked as a parking attendant that one summer," Jerry caught Angel's gaze, and his brother innocently looked the other way, "maybe Bobby needs a professional opinion."

"Right," his mother agreed drolly, before spearing her second youngest with her sharp gaze.

With a sudden move she grabbed Angel's ear. Jerry heard Angel curse softly, and quickly strode out of the room. The beginnings of a lecture wafted out of the room, and he shook his head. He didn't have much of a clue where to find his older brother, except that he was sure he _wasn't_ parking the car. It took him longer than he had wanted, and after a few pointed questions to the right people, he found himself at an examination room on the first floor near the ER.

He poked his head in just in time to see a nurse-practitioner finish wrapping Bobby's chest tightly with a bandage.

"You're just lucky it wasn't worse," she admonished him lightly, pulling the bandage extra tight, causing Bobby to wince. "What if you had been bleeding internally?"

Jerry's expression clouded on hearing that, but he remained quiet. It was much easier to get information this way.

"I was fine," Bobby muttered.

"How would that look for _me_?" She asked testily. "Letting you run off and do god knows what. Don't think I didn't see the swelling in your hands either. Are you trying to give me more work?"

"Hands are fine too, Nurse Roberts" again with the mumble.

"I wasn't talking about _your_ hands," she gave him a knowing look, before securing the bandages. "Now you just stay there until I get back."

"Hey, I—"

Nurse Roberts fixed Bobby with a look, one that Jerry had seen their mother use many a time. Bobby stilled, although his eyes glanced towards Jerry. Caught. The nurse turned and fixed him with a look.

"And you are?"

"This moron's brother," Jerry smiled graciously at the woman, because anyone who could keep Bobby in line deserved respect.

"Good, then I expect you to keep him from running off into the night—to find 'Ho Hos', or so he says."

"Bobby loves his 'Ho Hos'," Jerry agreed, taking up sentry duty at the door as the woman slipped by. When she was gone he let loose his irritation. "Midnight snack run?"

The eldest Mercer brother swore to himself. "Angel's a goddamn liar."

"No, he said your ass was parking the car," Jerry corrected, guessing that Bobby was referring to a promise to keep silent about his current whereabouts. It was a promise Jerry himself had foolishly made many times before trying to cover for his older brother. "I just know you well enough to know where your ass was really parked."

"I'm really not in the mood right now," Bobby muttered.

"Well I think that's too bad," Jerry's tone turned brittle, "because I've been here for hours with a scared kid who I can't give answers too!"

Bobby tilted his head up, but avoided Jerry's gaze. "How is he?"

"Hell if I know," Jerry growled, "it took me forever to convince him I wasn't a ghost or a figment of his imagination. I had to find out from some doctor with vision problems that there was someone in that store that looked like me."

Bobby frowned, as if it suddenly clicked into place then. "I guess that cashier looked like you a little."

"You're dense, you know that?"

"I was distracted by the guns they were pointing," Bobby finally looked Jerry in the eye.

"Bullshit! Since when has a gun ever stopped you from doing anything?"

"It stops me when it's aimed at one of you guys!"

Jerry stepped forward, tired of having to raise his voice so it would carry across the room, and tired of seeing Bobby wince from exhaling too hard. As angry as he was with his older brother right now, Jerry knew he had to tread this ground carefully. "You shouldn't have run off."

Bobby blinked. He wasn't expecting that as the first thing out of Jerry's mouth. More along the lines of how he should have kept a better eye on Jack. He narrowed his gaze, wondering if his practical little brother was just working his way up to that. "I had things to take care of."

"Without me?"

Bobby pursed his lips.

"Damn it, Bobby, he's my little brother too!" Jerry leaned in, eyes blazing. "Since when have I been excluded from that?"

"You said when you married Camille that you were done, that you'd left this life behind. I figured it was better this way, so you didn't have to make that choice."

"Well you figured wrong," Jerry growled.

"Sorry," it was curt, almost spat, but it was an apology. It was probably all Jerry was going to get as far as that subject was concerned.

Of course, Jerry was just getting started. "Then your fool ass runs off with what? Broken ribs?"

"Bruised," Bobby corrected.

Jerry eyed the bandages covering the elder brother's chest, almost like a second shirt.

"Okay, maybe there might be a little crack. The nurse was going to see if the x-rays were developed yet."

The younger of the two breathed heavily, trying to get his raging emotions under control. He was the calm, sensible one after all. It wouldn't do him any good to wring his sibling's neck. Fine, if he didn't care about his own personal welfare, he was going to hit Bobby where it _did_ hurt, because he wasn't the only one suffering tonight.

"You know, you're not the only one feeling bad."

"No crap, I was _there_, Jerry."

"Well you haven't been _here_. He clammed up right after I told him about the cashier. Seems he remembers everything now."

Bobby's body went absolutely still, and he held the shallow breath he'd been holding. He had half-hoped Jack wouldn't remember, for the sake of his nightmares, and partly for guilt gnawing at Bobby's conscience. "Anything else?"

"He's been looking for you," Jerry watched as the shoulders in front of his sagged ever so slightly. "Look man, I know you feel like shit for what happened, and I'm not going to be your personal cheerleader telling you if you should feel guilty or not. That's your own thing."

"Then why are you here?"

"Because my baby brother is upstairs right now looking like he's lost his best friend, and _I_ have tried everything I know to make it better."

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation. Jerry peered over his shoulder to see the nurse-practitioner at the doorway. He nodded to her, letting her know it was all right to interrupt. He idly wondered if she had been listening long. If she had, she gave no indication, and indicated a file with her hand.

"Your x-rays came up clear, Mr. Mercer. I'm going to release you into your brother's care."

Bobby tried to flash her a grateful smile, but it came out more of a grateful grimace. She turned to Jerry, outlining all of the dos and don'ts, as well as writing a prescription. Bobby for his part just nodded every now and then as she directed a comment towards him, pretending to pay attention. His mind was churning right now, mulling over Jerry's words. He barely noticed as his younger brother helped him down from the examination table, or as he was handed the button-up shirt he had changed into at the gas station.

"So are you ready to head back upstairs?"

"Yeah, yeah, just let me get dressed. Can't have Ma seeing these bandages."

"She's not stupid you know."

"Yes, but the longer I can hold her off, the better for me."

"Your ass is crazy."

"It's what makes me so lovable."

Jerry hung back, just in case Bobby needed any more help, ignoring the scathing glare tossed his way. He was perhaps the most infuriating man on the planet, but he was family. They passed by the gift shop as they wound their ways through the halls towards the main building, Bobby's glance more than just passing. He said nothing though, and they continued on their way. As they reached the other end, with the elevator that would lead them where they wanted, dawn could be seen peeking in through the windows lining the wall.

Bobby squinted at the bright light. "Damn, how can it be morning already?"

"Apparently you like to take your time finding your 'Ho Hos'."

"Ain't worth doing if it ain't worth doing right."

"Was it done right?" Jerry asked as they stepped onto the elevator.

"They won't be bothering anyone again," Bobby assured him as the elevator doors shut, blocking out dawn's light.

* * *

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_Yeah, Bobby! You showed those pesky... Ho Hos..._

_I've just been informed that the manufacturers of the Whump-Series of Mercer dolls have announced plans for making a one-time run, limited edition "Mother-Hen" Evelyn Mercer doll (with matronly ear-pulling action). These babies will be going fast, so pre-order today!_

_Ah, folks, looks like we're starting to wind down. I know I said that a little while back, but I'm confident we're actually going to be _ending _with chapter seventeen. So sniffle a little, and let's all have a group hug, as we've only got a few days left together. Oh the agony, oh the horror!_

_(And yes, another daily update tomorrow. Woohoo!)_


	16. Chapter 16

_Author's Notes_: I lied again. Actually, I didn't lie so much as fall asleep as soon as I got home yesterday. Naps are evil, they are the undoing of daily updates. _Ahem_. I was actually rather disappointed I didn't get this chapter out yesterday, because then I would have had an excuse to talk like a pirate (as it was Talk Like a Pirate Day).

Arr, so lap up this next chapter, me mateys! It's what we call the penultimate here in Shantytown!

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**Chapter Sixteen:**

Jack was asleep when they got back. Bobby almost felt a little jealous, feeling exhaustion pulling at him. It was just as well; he wasn't going to have the kind of conversation they needed to have in front of everyone else. He felt Jerry shove a piece of paper in his hand as they walked through the door, probably his prescription. He quickly stowed it in his jacket pocket before anyone could notice.

"Look who I found."

"Bobby," Evelyn's voice was smooth and controlled. "Did you manage to find a good parking spot?"

"Yes." Bobby looked at Angel, who was counting ceiling tiles and refused to meet his eye.

"Good," Evelyn murmured and stepped in closer to both of them, so she wouldn't have to raise her voice. "You just missed the doctor. He says everything came back clear, and they'll probably let us take Jack home today."

"Well that's good," Jerry sighed.

"Yes," she eyed Bobby for a moment longer, "I have to go fill out some paperwork so they can release him. Would you boys mind sitting with Jack until I get back?"

"Sure thing," Bobby forced a cheerful tone. "We've got nothing better to do."

She furrowed a brow at him, before slipping out of the room. When she was gone, Jerry forcibly steered him towards a chair. "Sit."

"Yes, Mom."

"How's the ear, Angel?" Jerry shot him a grin.

"I think she just about pulled it off," he grumbled annoyed. "You better wear your hat low, brother. She's not happy."

"Thanks for the warning," Bobby muttered, absently feeling his unadorned head. He'd need to lay low in that case until he could sneak something on it. He let his gaze slip over to the bed momentarily.

"He just fell asleep," Angel had caught the look. "Didn't say much though; something's bugging him. You got any idea what?"

Bobby shrugged lightly. Normally it could be anything with Jack, broke a string on his guitar, bad grade, one too many fairy jokes. He remembered back to the store, when Jack had a hard time looking him in the eye then. "Maybe Justin and Brittney got back together. You know how big of a crush Jack has on him."

A none-too-gentle smack to the back of his head made Bobby sit up straighter. He turned to glare at the offender. "Don't think I'll let a few bruised ribs keep me from kicking your ass, Jerry."

"Did nothing I say down there get through that thick skull?"

It did, but that didn't mean Bobby was going to conduct a group therapy session with the entire family.

"Stop picking on him."

"He's asleep!"

"Don't you think he's been through enough tonight without you ragging on him?"

"Who died and made you Evelyn?"

Angel quickly stepped in between them both, putting a hand out to both of his bickering siblings. "Shut up, both of you. We've _all_ had a long night, and right now all I want to do is take his skinny ass back home so we can all get some sleep."

Jerry pursed his lips, and Bobby just looked the other direction.

"Besides, if either of you wakes him up, I'm telling Mom."

"Snitch," Bobby muttered.

"Tattletale," Jerry agreed.

Angel just crossed his arms. They exchanged dirty looks with each other before quietly moving to their respective corners to wait for their mother's return and for their chance leave.

_**oOoOoOo**_

Three hours later, Angel and Jerry herded a sleepy, drugged Jack to his room. Bobby had wanted to take over Jack-sitting duties, and perhaps find an opening to talk. However his other two brothers had decided to team up and make him an invalid, claiming something about overexertion. He could hear them ribbing Jack as they climbed the stairs, leaving him and his mother alone in the kitchen. He remembered Angel's warning about headwear, and suddenly wished for his hockey helmet.

"What am I going to do with you?" She asked softly.

The need to cover his ears with his hands was strong, but he really didn't want to lift his arms to do it. "What?"

"You know it makes me proud that you look after your brothers the way you do, but would it kill you to use some of that caution on yourself?"

Bobby casually leaned against the sink as she took a seat across from him. "I'm Mr. Self-Preservation."

"Really? Then why did Mr. Self-Preservation go out and do God knows what today when he was clearly nursing a set of bruised ribs?"

Bobby cast a suspicious glance towards the stairs.

"Your brothers didn't tell me. I wasn't born yesterday, Bobby. I've had to wrap your chest plenty of times from hockey accidents."

He sighed softly, knowing that the jig was up. "I didn't want you to worry, Ma. We've got enough going on with Jack."

"I can worry about more than one son at a time. It's called multi-tasking, dear."

He really didn't want to get into an in-depth conversation on all of this. In fact, what he really wanted right now was to get some sleep. He forged on, though, because this conversation had to happen sooner or later. At least if he did it now, he wouldn't have to keep dodging her. "Ma, you take care of Jack in your own way. It works for you and it works for him."

She settled back into the kitchen chair. "But?"

"I've got my own way of dealing with things. You may not like it, but I can't _be_ like you, or even Jerry."

She shook her head sadly. "The sad thing, Bobby, is you really believe that."

He huffed, annoyed, but didn't respond. Just because he didn't coo at and coddle his brothers didn't mean he didn't care.

"Why don't you go lay down, son? We've all had a long night. Maybe with a few hours of sleep things will look a little brighter."

"Maybe," Bobby agreed half-heartedly.

_**oOoOoOo**_

The smells of cooking roused Bobby from his slumber, and drew him into the kitchen.

"I thought you were going to get some sleep," he grumbled groggily.

"I did," Evelyn replied as she poured the water from the potatoes she had just finished boiling, "but Thanksgiving dinner isn't going to cook itself."

"It's not until tomorrow," Bobby smothered a yawn. "And isn't Camille going to help this year?"

"She and Jerry should be over any minute."

He blinked away some of the sleep. "Why?"

"The gas in their apartment went out."

He nodded. "How long was I out?"

"Not long enough."

"Damn," Bobby said, glancing at all the preparations that still had to be made. He noted the lack of pie makings, as well as some other ingredients that were supposed to have been picked up last night. "Guess I'll go to the store and get what you need."

"I can send your brothers. You go rest."

"No," Bobby rubbed his eyes and sighed, "I think I can manage. There's something I have to pick up anyway."

She paused in her cooking preparations long enough to look at him. "What?"

"You wouldn't really understand," he shook his head softly. "Something between me and Jack."

"He's still sleeping." It was rather unnerving how she always seemed to know what he was thinking.

"Right."

The front door opened, saving them from that discussion further, and Jerry came in, his arms piled high with Tupperware and half-cooked meals. Camille shut the door behind them, and helped take some of the load off of her husband. She set her half down on the table, while Jerry unsuccessfully tried to replicate her action.

"Thank you for letting us stay over, Evelyn," Camille gave Jerry a long look as he almost dropped one of their casserole dishes. "I still can't believe the gas went out."

"We have plenty of room, and I'm glad for the company and help. The boys aren't much for cooking."

Camille looked at Bobby, who shrugged. "Guilty."

Jerry continued to struggle with his burden. Bobby stepped forward to help, but was waved off. "I got this."

"You'll 'get this' on the floor."

"Man, go sit down or something."

Bobby scowled. "I'm not paralyzed."

"Nurse Roberts said no heavy lifting."

"It's green bean casserole. I don't think it's going to set me back!"

"Y'all are louder than a herd of elephants," Angel commented sleepily as he trudged downstairs. He looked about as rested as Bobby felt. Then again, that was typical for Angel, ever the ladies man and night owl.

His comment was ignored, as Jerry fended Bobby's help off with one hand, and finished laying out his and Camille's contribution to tomorrow's feast. He exchanged a brief smile with his wife. "Is there anything else I can help with?"

"Take your older brother to the store."

"I can drive myself!"

"Not if you pick up the prescription I had Jerry drop off." Evelyn picked up one of the potatoes and started peeling it. "It specifically says you can't drive."

"Where did you find that?" Bobby asked as if she had just read an entry from his non-existent diary.

"It was in your jacket pocket, dear, not a safety deposit box."

An unhappy noise rumbled in the back of Bobby's throat. "I can pick up my own prescription!"

The other two Mercer men rolled their eyes simultaneously. "Sure, Bobby."

"I've still got my own car," he grumbled.

"But I've got your keys," Angel chimed in. "I don't think you can take 'em from me in your condition."

"I'm not pregnant!" Bobby snarled as he made an unsuccessful swipe for the keys twirling around Angel's index finger. "Give me my damn keys!"

"Nope."

Bobby breathed in as deeply as his tightly bound chest would allow, trying to control the annoyance simmering under the surface. He scowled unhappily at his family. "I hate you all."

"That's nice, dear. Don't forget the crescent rolls."

"Don't patronize me," he growled as he was herded out the front door. "I know where you people are sleeping tonight!"

"And make sure the turkey's at least ten pounds!" Evelyn called from the kitchen.

"I better get a list," Jerry muttered, passing Bobby-sitting duty to Angel as he ducked back into the house.

Angel tried to steer him towards Jerry's car, but found the hand shrugged from his shoulder. "Five foot radius, Ang, five foot radius."

Angel held his hands up in defeat and wandered back into the covered porch to escape the outside air and the evil look directed his way. Bobby jammed his hands in his jacket pockets as he made his way out to the street where his brother's vehicle was parked, frowning as he saw a familiar sedan approach from down the street.

"What the hell does he want?" Bobby muttered, snow crunching underfoot as he ambled down the sidewalk.

The car pulled up and shut the engine down. With a wary look he rounded the other side as Detective Thaddeus Green stepped out of the driver's side. "Bobby Mercer."

"Detective Green," he returned the greeting and shook the other man's hand.

"Not back in town even a few days and your name's already showing up on police reports."

"I'm just that popular."

"Really?"

"Haven't you seen my TV show, _Everybody Loves Bobby_?"

"I'm afraid I don't have time to watch any television."

"Too many donut runs?"

"Too many smartasses I have to drag in for questioning."

"Oh? What's got you running these charming, witty people down instead of heading to Starbucks for a Coppuccino—I mean Frappucino."

"Funny, Bobby, really funny," Green didn't look amused as he pulled a file from the car. "Believe it or not, this isn't a social call."

"Now that just hurts my feelings," Bobby grabbed his heart in mock pain. "I've been gone all this time and you can't even find time to visit your old pal without dragging some nasty police business into it."

"Maybe if you could come into town without shooting it up, I wouldn't have to."

"Why are you here, Green?"

"The oddest thing happened this morning." Green tapped the folder in his palm as he regarded the man in front of him. "Two of the men who held up the grocery store you were at last night just showed up on our doorstep, begging us to arrest them."

"Maybe the guilt got to them," Bobby grinned ferally.

"That," Green pulled out a booking photo of Terrell, whose face was hardly recognizable, "or maybe someone's fists did."

"Man looks like a Van Gough painting."

"I think you mean Picasso."

Bobby shrugged. "One of those guys who couldn't draw worth a crap."

Green leveled his childhood friend with a hard stare. "Bobby, what happened at the store was self-defense; you were defending yourself and your brother. But you can't just go around beating the crap out of people."

"Who said I did anything?"

"Your name never came up," Green said carefully, "although one did say something about prison being the safest place for him."

"So no one's pressing any charges on this?"

"No," Green sighed, stowing the booking photos back into the folder.

"Then I ask again, why are you here?"

"Look, I heard what happened. How's Jack?"

"He'll be fine," Bobby said tersely.

"We're going to need to get a statement from him." If Green were a lesser man, he would've taken several steps back at the poisonous glare he received. As it was, he just shifted the folder from one hand to the other. "It can wait a couple of days of course."

The intensity of the glare waned, but did not disappear completely. "We'll see."

Green's eyes strayed to the sidewalk, and Bobby looked over his shoulder to see that Angel had spotted the latest visitor to the Mercer household, and was on his way to make his own greeting. "Looks like the cavalry is coming."

"Through thick and thin."

Green pursed his lips. "Just do me a favor and lay low, and no more Picasso impressions with your fists."

Bobby held up his hands in defeat. "Scout's honor."

"Locker Room Scout doesn't count."

"Hey, you were the one that made the dare," Bobby reminded him as Angel joined them.

"Different times, Bobby, different times."

"There any trouble here?" Angel asked, as if he were inquiring about the weather.

"I was just stopping by to wish an old friend a happy Thanksgiving," Green said as he opened his car door. "Just stay out of trouble, okay, Bobby?"

Bobby shrugged indifferently. "You know me, Green."

"That's what worries me."

With a final farewell, he climbed into his car. Angel watched the detective leave, standing shoulder-by-shoulder with his older brother. "Anything I should be worried about?"

"Nope."

"Good," Angel looked up, relieved to see Jerry walk out. "About damn time!"

"Sorry," he breathed as he walked swiftly down the drive to join his brothers at the street, "I keep forgetting… _never_ ask for a list."

"It's what I do," Bobby said.

"Yeah, and look how far that's got you," Jerry shot back.

"Shut up," Bobby groused good-naturedly as he climbed into the passenger side of Jerry's car.

* * *

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_What, what is this? Are we almost done? And how the heck could I go so many chapters without poor Jack taking a turn? Well, I have my reasons. Stay tuned for our final (sniff) installment. Now how will I torture you people? Guess I'll have to keep writing. Rats. (Or mice)._

_Until next time, the last time!_


	17. Chapter 17

_Author's Notes_: Wow, this is it, huh? It's been a blast writing this story, and all of you guys have been great in your constant reviews. This is the longest thing I've ever written, and it's been an amazing ride. I cannot stress how great the people in this fandom are.

I also find it amazing how SparksDiamond manages to catch the hundred-review mark each time. I'm thinking she just sits and waits until she sees the "99" and quickly submits a review. I already gave you a Whump-Me Jack, what can I do to top that? ;) Seriously though, two hundred reviews? You guys know that nothing else I've ever posted ever passed the hundred mark, right? I am floored, really. You're all too kind!

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**Chapter Seventeen:**

Tired eyes stared back at him from the mirror. Jack wasn't sure what he was looking for, but whatever it was couldn't be seen. His index finger lightly traced the bruise vividly decorating his face. The swelling had gone down, aided by the ice pack that had been anonymously left in his room. He could even work his jaw better thanks to the pain medication working its way through his system. As he continued to stare at himself in the mirror, he found himself glad that it was Thanksgiving break. For some reason, the prospect of walking around school looking like a bruised piece of fruit just didn't sound appealing. Then again, hopped up on pain medication, antibiotics, and eating turkey with a straw wasn't his idea of a dream Thanksgiving either.

Normally the thought of his mother's lovingly prepared dishes would make his mouth water and the smells wafting up from the kitchen would draw him out of hiding. Right now though, it made his empty stomach clench, and a brief sensation of nausea overtook him.

He closed his eyes and held onto the sink, waiting for the feeling to pass.

This wasn't his worst Thanksgiving ever, but it was coming close. The crappiest part wasn't even that the thought of food was unappetizing, or that the prospect of chewing on a piece of turkey sounded like a violation of the Geneva Convention. It was that even through the haze of the pain medication, he could feel a thin film on his teeth, reminding him that he hadn't been able to properly see to his dental hygiene the night before. That in turn dredged up violent memories that he really didn't want to deal with.

Jack's energy reserves weren't much to speak of. His body had been through hell, and now it was demanding proper rest. He sighed and pushed away from the sink, frowning as his bare foot collided against something. He peered under the sink, spying a black toiletry bag sporting the US Marine Corp logo.

Carefully he lowered himself to the ground, eyeing the bag thoughtfully. A mature person would leave it where it was and crawl back to his bed to moan in solitude. This person would understand that nothing could be gained by messing with a marine's gear, except perhaps a beating.

Jack opened the bag with one quick motion. On his best days he didn't come anywhere close to mature, and judging from the dull ache in his side, this was far from a good day. He fished around in the bag blindly, before pulling out a plain unadorned toothbrush.

Perhaps it was the pain pills, but he found himself chuckling maniacally as he hobbled over to the toilet. The laughter grew louder and more disturbed as he dunked his victim into the bowl over and over again.

_**oOoOoOo**_

Bobby stared at the tiny box of baking soda in his hand, and glanced unhappily at his two younger brothers. "Are you sure you can trust me handling this? I might crack a rib with whole eight ounces sitting in my palm."

Jerry sighed exasperated. "Bobby, don't make me call Nurse Roberts on your ass."

"I'd like to see you try." The elder brother's shoulders hunched at the mention of the nurse though.

"She gave me a number to reach her at if I needed to."

"You're lying."

"Am I?" Jerry raised an eyebrow in challenge. "Were you listening enough to know that?"

Bobby remained silent, because he hadn't, and he really couldn't tell whether or not Jerry was lying at the moment. He once again cursed teaching the younger man to bluff. Next time he needed a wingman in a poker match he'd just clone himself. Angel couldn't be trusted after that little stunt at the hospital, and Jack couldn't bluff to save his life.

"We need to get pie." Changing the subject was always better than admitting defeat. Besides, it was the one thing he could remember from the list last night.

"Angel's got that covered," Jerry indicated head bobbing at the other end of the corner store.

"I'm finding it hard to believe they have things Ma needs to make pie."

"Man, she doesn't want to make it this year. Didn't you hear her last year? Too much work."

Bobby looked at Jerry closely, trying to see if he was lying or not. That poker face was still there though. "No pie crusts?"

"Man, I know they've got turkeys here, but I think you're giving this place too much credit. We'd have to go to the grocery store for that."

Now, neither Angel nor Jerry had mentioned anything about Bobby and grocery stores being "bad luck", and never explicitly stated their presence was needed for the oldest brother's "own protection". Perhaps it was good old fashioned paranoia, but Bobby was sure they were _thinking_ it. Just like they were thinking he had managed to break both of his arms instead of bruise a few ribs.

The turkey he had reached for had been plucked away from his grasp by Angel. When he had attempted to grab some marshmallows from a top shelf Jerry had snatched them away before he could even raise his arm. Hell, they had even shooed him away from the prescription counter. They were taking the term "mother hen" to new heights.

"So, is there anything you _will_ let me do?" Bobby muttered.

"Just keep holding that baking soda. It might try to escape."

"You're getting a wet willie the moment you're least expecting it."

"I'll have to go over the checklist to see if that violates doctor's orders."

Bobby glowered at him, which just earned him a shit-eating grin. Jerry was having entirely too much fun being Nurse Ratched—er, Robert's henchman. Bobby muttered something unsavory and moved away.

"Where are you going?" Jerry called after him, trying to balance his load of groceries.

"I figured I'd see if there were any light sockets I could stick my fingers into!"

Jerry shouted something about the proposed activity not being on "the list", but Bobby ignored him. He loved his little brothers, but right now he would give anything to be an only child. At least that way he wouldn't have to commit fratricide. He turned his attention from away the mother hen's clucking to his main reason for this trip.

He made Jack a promise, and he aimed to keep it.

_**oOoOoOo**_

A knock at his door roused Jack from his thoughts. He actually hadn't gone back to sleep after his revenge spree in the bathroom, but instead just lay on his bed with his eyes closed. He cracked open his eye to see his oldest brother standing at his door. In one hand he held a glass of water, and the other was fisted up as if he was holding something. Curiously, he also had a plastic bag hooked over one wrist.

"You awake?"

"You ask _after_ you knock?" Jack groused, but used his arm to leverage himself up to a sitting position. Bobby started to say something, but then seemed to think better of it. He instead just stood in the doorway, as if waiting for an invitation.

"How are you feeling?"

_Like crap_, Jack thought to himself. "Fine."

"We really need to work on your honesty, Jackie," Bobby moved forward then, opening his fist to reveal two pills. "Ma said it was time for your next round of happy pills."

"Joy," he said without much enthusiasm but accepted the pills and glass of water. As he downed the pills with the help of the water, he once again noticed the bag. "What's that?"

"Peace offering," Bobby said, taking the glass of water to keep Jack from having to stretch. It appeared that deep down, all the Mercer men were mother hens. Bobby decided to keep that one to himself, and instead used the nightstand to help lower himself to the ground. He noticed Jack staring at him intently. "What?"

"Make yourself at home." Maybe Jack had just imagined Bobby's hesitation at the door. However he didn't imagine the careful way he sat down, rather than gracelessly plopping himself on the floor. "Your ribs hurt much?"

Bobby looked surprised. "How do you know about that?"

"I was there," Jack muttered and shifted a pillow behind him, wincing as the movement pulled at the stitches in his side. All right, no sudden movements until the pain meds kicked in.

"Yeah… I'm sorry about that."

Jack frowned. Did Bobby just apologize? "Did I get hit on the head again?"

His brother sighed softly. "Yes, I said sorry. Savor the memory; you're probably not going to hear it again."

"You don't need to," Jack said softly. "It's not your fault."

"You're right, it's Angel's—"

"Hey!"

They both looked up to see Angel, who had paused on the way to the bathroom on overhearing the offhand comment.

"Well it _is_." Bobby made a shooing motion with his hands. "And stop eavesdropping."

"I was heading to the bathroom."

"Then go. This is a private conversation."

Angel muttered something under his breath as he shut the bathroom door behind him. Jack watched the door with interest for a moment, before Bobby's continuation brought him back to the subject at hand.

"Either way, I'm—" His tongue couldn't wrap itself around admitting any guilt aloud for last night's events. It would invite too many damning thoughts if he let himself go there. "—hoping you don't hold it against me."

Jack looked away at that, but Bobby had seen the flash of guilt across his little brother's face. "What?"

"Nothing."

"Look at me," Bobby commanded sharply, and on instinct Jack obeyed, visibly trying to control the emotions on his face. "You said that last night, and I know I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed, but obviously it's _something_."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Hey, I'm not exactly the apologizing sort, so you can at least give it a try."

Jack pursed his lips together. He really didn't want to have this conversation.

"Hey, I'm not getting any younger here."

Jack bit his tongue as his emotions welled up. He wasn't going to cry in front of Bobby; that would just be the end-all to this perfect mess. Unbidden, the image of Cain pulling the trigger rose in the back of his mind, and he clenched his eyes shut, trying to banish it.

"Hey," Bobby's voice had softened, "come on Jack, talk to me. What the hell happened?"

Jack exhaled a shaky breath, clenching one hand into a fist under the covers. It was easy to ignore Bobby when he was being a jackass. It's when he slipped into caring big brother mode that broke through Jack's defenses. This time was no exception.

"I'm sorry, Bobby."

"What do _you_ have to be sorry about?"

"I didn't mean to tell them, they just—they were going to start shooting everyone. I mean it could've been a concussion, but I just kept seeing Jerry's face on that guy, and they were going to _shoot_ him."

"What the hell are you talking about, Jack?" Bobby's voice had edged into concern, but Jack refused to open his eyes and actually have to look at his brother for this.

"I told them about you," he finally admitted quietly, feeling all the disgust and shame well up. "I mean, they were pretty sure you were in the store, but I told them your name."

"Open your eyes, Jack." His brother's voice had gotten very quiet, but the tone brooked no argument.

Reluctantly he obeyed, and saw Bobby staring at him intently with a look Jack couldn't quite decipher.

"Are you trying to tell me that the reason that shithead did that to you was because you wouldn't tell them I was in the store?"

Jack remained quiet.

"Damn it, Jack, don't you clam up on me now!"

Instead of responding verbally, Jack just nodded tightly, fingernails digging into his palms. Bobby's angry curse made him flinch. He glanced over to see his older brother flopping around on the floor, awkwardly trying to turn himself around. Eventually he gave up and just turned his head so he could spear Jack with a look.

"Don't you _ever_ do that again!"

"Bobby, I'm—"

"And stop apologizing!"

Jack shut his mouth and leaned back against his pillow, as he started to look away a hand snaked up and grabbed his sleeve. Reluctantly he dragged his gaze back up to meet Bobby's.

"Don't you _ever _put yourself in danger like that! You _do_ what they fucking say and keep your head low! I can take care of myself."

He wasn't mad at Jack for, what was in his mind, a big betrayal. The heavy weight on his shoulders started to lift, before the real meaning behind his brothers word sank in. "So you're saying that next time _you're_ in trouble I'm just supposed to sit back and do nothing?"

"You bet your ass you are! It's my job to look after you, not the other way around!"

"That's bullshit!" Jack glared.

"No it's not," Bobby argued heatedly. "They could have killed you. And then what? They still would have come looking for me. I _still_ would have had to kick their asses!"

Jack's nostrils flared. "They said if you gave them any trouble they were going to shoot you—"

"So better they shoot _you_?"

"No, but—"

"No buts about it Jack! What was I supposed to do if they shot you? What would _Ma_ do?"

"Newsflash jackass, I _did_ get shot!"

"Oh good, we're going to talk about _that_. Good rule of thumb: When someone's aiming a gun, don't jump in front of it!"

"So I'm supposed to just let you get shot?"

"I would have moved!"

An angry bellow from the bathroom managed to cut through their shouting match.

"What the _hell_?" Angel sputtered with rage, before the loud sounds of someone spitting profusely filled the tiny corner of the house.

"What's his problem?" Bobby asked, clearly irritated that Angel deigned to interrupt him while he was in lecturing-elder-brother mode.

Jack snorted as another angry noise came from the bathroom. Bobby craned his neck up to peer at his youngest brother.

"What'd you do?"

"Scrubbed the toilet with his toothbrush."

A delighted grin spread across Bobby's face as more curses rang across the hall. "Way to go, Cracker Jack!"

"He had it coming."

The door to the bathroom slammed open and Angel stormed the few feet to Jack's door, holding his toothbrush angrily. "I'm going to _kill_ you, Jack!"

Bobby gave Angel a pointed gaze. "I'd let it drop if I were you."

"Don't you defend him, he—"

"Keep _moving_," Bobby's tone was sharp. "And stay out of his stuff next time!"

Angel grumbled under his breath but moved along, trying to scrape his tongue on his teeth. Bobby watched him for a long moment, before turning back to Jack. "Where were we?"

"You were being a hypocrite."

"Hey! I had a very valid point—"

"Bobby, why do you go apeshit whenever someone threatens me?"

"You're my brother."

"_Exactly_. And you're mine, so whether you like it or not, I'm always going to have your back."

"I definitely _don't_ like it."

"Tough shit," Jack flicked his older brother's ear. The hand that had grabbed his sleeve moved to grab his fingers. "It's a little brother's job to annoy his older siblings."

"You've got that market cornered."

"The whole brother thing isn't just a one-way street, you know?"

He thought back to Jerry and Angel, at the store, and at the hospital, and came to the grim conclusion that baby brother could have a valid point. There was something dually frustrating and heartening when someone made a point of looking after you even when you were past the point of recognizing your own limits.

"I preferred it when you couldn't talk," Bobby's glare softened. "You made less sense."

The corner of Jack's mouth quirked up into a half-smile. "Whatever, Dwarf Lord."

"Gigantor, Slayer of Doors," Bobby smiled a little at that as well. His hand fell to the bag on the floor. "Hey, I got you something when we went to the corner store today."

Jack looked at him curiously. Bobby fished into the bag and tossed one of the items in it onto the bed. The teen grabbed the small object and held it up to inspect it. It was a plain, square plastic box with "Dental Floss" emblazoned on one side in bold.

"You got me floss?"

"Don't say I never gave you anything."

"My gratitude knows no bounds."

"Hey, that's not the cheap stuff either!"

"The price tag is still on it," Jack deadpanned. "It says it cost forty-nine cents."

"It was an after-thought."

"Great gift."

"Shut it, I suck at this gift buying thing."

"I could have told you that." Jack spun the plastic box around in his hands. "You know, I've already got floss."

"Then use that to make a tripwire for Angel."

"Good idea."

"I've got more," Bobby used the bed to heave himself up. He winced as his ribs protested at the movement. He'd need to go downstairs and take his prescription. Or maybe just grab a beer, either sounded good. He flashed Jack a grin before dropping the bag onto his lap.

"What the hell is this?"

"You probably don't remember it, but I promised you something last night."

It sounded vaguely familiar. He remembered most everything, up to the point where the gun had gone off the last time. From there it was still very fuzzy.

"Go ahead."

Jack gave his brother a curious look before reaching into the bag. His fingers brushed along something long and slender, encased in plastic.

"Hope you like it," Bobby said seriously before quietly withdrawing from the room.

Jack watched him leave and frowned. He slowly pulled out the mystery item, revealing a brand new toothbrush...

...a brand new, _little girl's_ toothbrush.

The handle was molded out of semi-translucent plastic that was cast in a shade somewhere between fuchsia and violet. Someone at the factory must've spilled an entire container of glitter into the garish object as it was almost blinding when it managed to catch the light overhead. Topping it off was the bust of a cute, lavender horse on the handle, under a logo identifying the item as a piece of "My Little Pony" merchandise.

"_Bobby_!" He called out angrily, dropping the offensive object and reaching for the headrest so he could hobble out of the room. Bullet wound or no, he was going to _pummel_ his oldest brother.

He could hear Bobby chuckle softly as he made a quick retreat. "Tooth Fairy."

**-The End-**

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_I actually did just say those two words that I know some of you were dreading. It'll be okay, though, I promise. This is not the last thing I'll write for Four Brothers. As I mentioned in a previous chapter I have a Christmas Carol-esque fic I really hope I can have written by the holidays (everything willing), and believe it or not... there really is going to be an "Angel Goes to Starbucks" fic. There's a really epic one I'm still trying to plot out, as well as some shorter things. Laugh, weep, throw tomatoes, but you guys aren't getting rid of me. I promise I'll be back in your hair again in no time, so keep that tar and those feathers handy, because I'm sure there will be many cliffs in the future!_

_Until next time! _


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